


Somebody Better Let Me Know My Name (Before I Give Myself Away)

by personalobserver



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, Multiple Husbands, Polygamous Lifestyle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1582979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/personalobserver/pseuds/personalobserver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is based off of the prompt: </p><p> <i>Can you do a story where Louis lives a polygamous life style with the other boys as his husbands? There can be like little segments with each husband and then some drama. I would love you forever, literally nothing like this out there.</i></p><p>The result:</p><p> <i>Zayn is sent in to investigate the polygamous lifestyle of a man suspected of murdering his family. Under a new name, Zayn must find out everything he can to help identify the man and get him arrested. However, the more Zayn is exposed to this lifestyle he was thrown into, he begins to think maybe no one is as bad as they seem.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Clearly, I took this prompt and twisted it, and mashed it up, and put my own spin on it. I've been watching a lot of investigator shows with my mom so I think it all sort of rubbed off onto this fic. There's really nothing that inspired this ((except for the prompt, obviously)).
> 
> Title is taken from SOHN's _Artifice_ , which magically came on my playlist while I was writing this, and I immediately thought of Zayn being undercover and forgetting his name. 
> 
> None of this is real, and all mistakes are my own.

Zayn scuffs his boots as he walks along the dirt road. 

He’s pretty sure he’s been walking for longer than he was told he would have to in order to find the place, but there is literally _nothing_ out here. He’s about to turn back, go tell Ben there was nothing out here, but then he sees what appears to be a roof of a house peeking through the trees up ahead. He huffs out a dry laugh, not really believing that this place is real.

When Ben had told him he was going to be investigating a polygamous man’s life so Ben could see if the man behind it was the person they’ve searching for who was charged with murdering his family, Zayn thought Ben had finally lost his mind. But here Zayn is, walking up the steps of a house that apparently belongs to some runaway murderer. His life makes no sense.

Before he can even press the doorbell, the door opens to reveal a head of shocking blonde hair. And Zayn freezes because. Maybe this is the guy. No one really knows what he’s supposed to look like, since there are no records of him. Some crazy mystery novel Zayn’s got himself into.

“Can I help ya?” the guy asks, a heavy Minnesotan accent coming through, which. Minnesota’s quite a long ways away from Arizona. 

“Um, I’m just lost,” Zayn says, now realizing that Ben never created a backstory for him. 

“Lost?”

“Yeah, yeah. I mean, I ran away.” Zayn gestures to the bag on his back.

The guy laughs. “Aren’t we all trying to get away from something these days?”

 _Like a murder?_ Zayn bites the question back, his eyes shifting to see another man walking up behind Blondie. 

“Do we have a guest, Niall?” the new guy asks Blondie, or rather, Niall.

“Some young’n who ran away from home,” Niall replies, turning to the side to allow the older-looking man to step into the doorway.

This guy _has_ to be older. He’s got wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, indicating years of laughter and good times. Or being stressed out from murdering his family. Zayn still can’t tell which one’s supposed to be the murderer. For now, he’ll treat them all like they’re planning to kill him. 

“A teenage runaway?” he asks, his smooth lips quirking into a smile.

“I’m not a teenager,” Zayn protests, because really. He just turned twenty.

The man hums, his eyes flicking down Zayn’s body. “What’s your name then?”

 _Shit._ Is he supposed to use a fake name? Fuck Ben. “Flynn.” 

The man’s eyebrows arch and Zayn feels like he’s about to get called out for lying. “Flynn? That’s a... different name. Isn’t it, Ni?”

“Kinda, but I like it,” Niall grins, wrapping an arm around the still-unnamed man’s waist.

“Well, if Niall likes it, then I like it, too,” the man smiles unnervingly at him, reaching a hand out for Zayn to shake. “My name’s Louis.”

Zayn takes a moment to lock that name into a little box in his head before reaching out to shake Louis’ hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you,” Louis says, releasing his hand. “Now. I’m guessing you’ll need a place to stay, correct?”

Zayn attempts to spread a blush across his cheeks; innocence is key. “If it’s no trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Louis assures, and Niall suddenly turns away, skipping into the house. “Come on in.” He holds the door open for Zayn as he steps inside.

The house has an overwhelming sense of feeling at home, and Zayn hates it immediately. He quickly searches around the room, looking for any weapons or possibly a large poster that says _I killed my family_. But Zayn has no such luck. He’ll have to stay a bit longer.

“You dress similar to Harry,” Louis says, stepping in front of Zayn to lead him up the stairs. “He might try to steal that shirt off you.”

 _Who the fuck is Harry?_ “Who’s Harry?” he asks, following Louis into a small bedroom. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Louis says, winking at him. “Alright. This is your room. Get yourself comfortable, and meet downstairs when you’re done. I’ll introduce you to everyone else, and then we’ll have dinner.”

Zayn nods, fidgeting with his things as he sets them onto his bed.

“Don’t be nervous, Flynn. You’re in good hands here.” 

Zayn turns as Louis leaves the room, about to ask who Flynn is, but then he snaps his mouth shut, remembering _he’s_ Flynn. He sighs, sitting down on the bed. This is going to take some getting used to, but once it’s all done, he’ll be sure to kick Ben’s ass.

**

When Zayn makes his way down the stairs about twenty minutes later, he wanders through the sitting room and into the kitchen. Whatever is cooking on the stove smells amazing, so he lifts the lid to find some sort of stew boiling. Hopefully it’s not made from humans. Okay, Zayn really needs to calm down.

There’s a distant murmur of laughter, and Zayn follows it to find the dining room. A large rectangular table sits in the middle; Louis is sitting at the head of it with Niall to his left, and a mess of curly hair sitting to his right. Next to Curly, there’s a broad-shouldered guy with a clean trim. They all seem to notice his presence in the room at the same time, turning and watching him. Curly’s eyes are wide as he looks at him, and Shoulders seems a bit anxious.

“Boys,” Louis says, standing from the table and prancing over to Zayn. “This is Flynn. He stumbled upon our place this afternoon.” He pauses allowing Curly and Shoulders to introduce themselves; Harry and Liam, respectively. “We’re going to make him feel right at home, aren’t we?” Louis asks the room at large, wrapping an arm around Zayn’s shoulders.

“Of course we will!” Harry exclaims, sounding as if it’s the obvious answer. 

Then the whole room turns to look at Liam, who has suddenly gotten quiet. He glances at all of them with wide, brown eyes. “Yeah, we will,” he mumbles, grabbing the piece of bread from his plate and picking it to pieces. 

“He’s a little shy,” Louis whispers into his ear, patting him on the shoulder before stepping away. “Have a seat, Flynn. I’ll go grab dinner.”

Zayn nods, stepping further into the room and taking the empty seat beside Niall. He grabs a piece of bread from the small wicker basket in the center just so he has something to do with his hands. He feels something nudging at the toe of his boot underneath the table, so he glances up to see Harry watching him with his wide, green eyes and an eager smile. He looks so _young_.

“So,” Zayn clears his throat, pulling his feet underneath his chair. “How do you all know Louis?”

Niall laughs, full and loud, and Harry giggles into his palm while Liam just sits there, lightly stabbing his fork into the tablecloth. “We’re his husbands,” Harry says, a bright smile in his voice, and Zayn can’t fight the way his head jerks up to stare at all of them in turn. “Don’t look so surprised,” Harry adds.

And. He’s not... _surprised_ , per se, because he knew there was going to some polygamous activity going on, but he never thought that it would be a man with multiple _husbands_. Zayn thought it’d be the typical _man with many wives_ thing that he’s only seen on TV before. And when he walked in here without seeing any women, he just thought maybe they were some cult group who thought it best to keep their women locked away in separate rooms so they can use them as they please. But a _gay polygamous group_ never once crossed his mind. What the hell. 

“I, um. I’ve just never been exposed to something like that before,” Zayn says, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. 

“No worries,” Niall assures, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “I hadn’t, either, before I came here.”

“Came here?” Zayn asks, mentally taking note of everything being said.

Niall winks at him. “I was once lost like you, kid.”

Before Zayn can ask any of the questions flying around his head, Louis reenters the room with a large, steaming bowl of the stew, and all conversation dies immediately. They don’t do some sort of weird prayer before they eat like Zayn thought they would. Instead, they all serve themselves, after Louis has gone first. They eat in silence, just the scraping of metal spoons on ceramic bowls cutting through the empty air. It’s Louis who speaks first.

“So, Flynn. How did you find your way here?” he asks, scooping the remnants of his soup with the crust of his bread. 

“Well, I sort of just. Ran away?” Zayn winces internally.

“So you said. And you just, wandered your way this way? I’m surprised you found us at all. I thought we were pretty far off the beaten path.”

“I came from down in Cottonwood,” Zayn says, trying to picture a map of Arizona in his head. “I hitched a few rides, telling them I was just headed north. The last guy dropped me off a few miles from here, I guess. Told me we had reached Williams.”

Louis nods along while he has an arm outstretched to scratch at the hairs at the nape of Niall’s neck. “What made you run away?” he asks.

“Family,” Zayn shrugs. “I’m in that weird stage of life where I don’t really know what I want to be doing. But my parents. They, um. They gave me the ultimatum of either enrolling into NAU or sending me off to some military orientation down at Luke.” He laughs, like it’s all some sort of inside joke. “So I ran away. Seems like the right thing to do, right?”

Louis is smiling now, shrugging. “You seem like the rebel type, then. I think you’ll fit in here perfectly.”

Zayn takes a gulp of his water before asking, “So how did you guys get set up here?” And that seems the end the good mood in the room entirely, everyone ducking their heads to stare at their empty bowls as Louis stares straight at Zayn, his jaw flexing.

Louis averts his eyes suddenly, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright, dinner’s over. Liam, it’s your night for dishes, correct?”

Liam nods, standing and gathering all the dirty dishes from the table. When he reaches for Louis’, Louis tugs him down by the collar of his shirt, kissing him sweetly, before letting him continue with his chore. They sit there awkwardly as Liam shuffles around them, and Zayn really wants to go help him with all of the dishes, just to escape the awkward tension in the room.

Louis removes himself from the table first, heading out of the room and in the direction of where Zayn thinks the living room is. Harry and Niall follow him, so Zayn decides he should too, just so Louis can’t find even more reasons to hate him. They gather in the living room, Harry and Louis on one sofa, Niall on another, and Zayn decides to take the chair just so Liam can have the seat by Niall. Louis flicks on the TV and a DVD starts playing. Zayn fights against his urge to ask what movie it is, but he’s quickly settled when the _DC Comics_ logo flashes across the screen, and he really doesn’t care which movie it is. 

Just when the movie gets started, Liam joins them, pecking a kiss to Louis’ cheek before sitting next to Niall, pulling him into his lap. Zayn can’t decide between watching _Man of Steel_ or watching Louis and his... husbands. He looks away quickly when Louis’ eyes glance over to him, a smile on his face. 

He does his best to focus on the remainder of the movie, but about halfway through, he hears hushed whispers and flicks his eyes over quickly to see Harry crawling into Louis’ lap, whispering something into the man’s ear. Louis’ arm tightens around Harry’s waist and he whispers something back, making Harry huff out a sigh and then returns to his spot on the sofa.

“Go wait for me.” 

That’s all Louis says, and it has the rest of the boys standing up and heading up the stairs, leaving Zayn and Louis alone in the living room. Louis reaches for the remote, turning the TV off and then turning to Zayn, his eyes flitting over him in assessment before saying, “Harry wants you.”

Zayn sits up straighter, clearing his throat. “Excuse me?”

Louis sighs, rubbing at his temple. “He told me he’s been wanting you to fuck him ever since he saw you walk into the room.”

“But. But isn’t he your... husband?”

“Of course. But I firmly believe in keeping all of my husbands happy. And if that means allowing him to have you for one night, I don’t see the harm.” He pauses, eyeing Zayn suspiciously. “And you wouldn’t want to do something that would upset Harry, would you?”

Zayn squirms in his seat. He’s never... okay, well there was that _one_ time when he and Ben had gotten a little too drunk at the office party and the night ended with them getting each other off in the restroom. But that’s not... _fucking_ another guy. He thinks, if Ben were here, he’d tell Zayn to fuck him, just for the sake of getting more information out of him. Zayn sighs, resolutely nodding his head.

“I’ll be there, or course,” Louis adds, and what. He’s going to watch them?

“Right. Right, yeah. Okay, um. I’ve never...” Zayn stops, shaking his head in an attempt to catch up with everything going on.

“It’s fine,” Louis assures, standing up and motioning for Zayn to follow him. “Harry’s easy for it. He said he’s practically been gagging for you, so I think he’ll like whatever you can give him.”

They stop outside the door to what Zayn is assuming to be Louis’ bedroom. The door is open just a crack, allowing Zayn to see a huge bed with the other boys sprawled across it, talking quietly with each other. Louis gives him a comforting smile before he pushes open the door and the boys on the bed sit up abruptly. Louis walks straight to Harry, leaning down to whisper something in his ear, and then Harry is staring at Zayn with hungry eyes, and he’s feeling a bit nervous.

Louis motions for him to get on the bed, so he climbs on it slowly, sending hesitant glances toward Louis and Niall as they start kissing, and Liam sits back to watch them. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s being turned to lie on his back and Harry is crawling up his body like a cat. He starts pressing kisses to Zayn’s neck, sucking a bruise behind his ear. 

“I’m glad you agreed,” he murmurs. “It was hard to keep my hands off you.”

Zayn just laughs quietly, shaking his head, and he glances to his left to find Louis watching them as Niall sucks at his collarbones. He moves easily when Harry rids him of his clothes, and he watches intently as Harry strips for him by the side of the bed. Harry’s teasing, and Zayn is surprised to find himself being turned on by it, since he’s never viewed men as being sexy before. But _fuck_ , there’s just something about him.

When Harry’s fully nude, he turns around, allowing Zayn to look at his naked body. He’s already half-hard, and his torso is long and lean, vast expanses of creamy skin that Zayn wants to litter with saliva and bruises. He climbs on top of Zayn, then, straddling his hips and running his palms down Zayn’s stomach. Zayn grabs firmly at Harry’s fleshy hips, and looks over to see Louis still watching them. His eyes are hooded as Niall sucks him down, but he won’t look away from Harry and Zayn. 

Zayn jerks his head back in surprise as Harry gets his mouth around him, lowering down until Zayn can feel the head of his cock nudging at the back of Harry’s throat. _Fuck_ , that’s new. He tangles his fingers into Harry’s curls, tugging lightly and making Harry moan around him, sending pulses of pleasure down his spine. For some reason, he turns to look at Louis, who is now being ridden by Niall, and Louis smiles at him because he _knows_ how Harry is. He gives Zayn a slight upward nod of his head and a sultry wink before he finally looks away from them, focusing on Niall.

Zayn turns his attention back to Harry who is now stroking Zayn while he has an arm reaching back to open himself up. And, fucking hell, this guy is perfect. Zayn groans, his fingers tightening in Harry’s hair and forcing his mouth back down onto his cock. He lifts his hips experimentally, shoving his cock further down Harry’s throat, making tears form in his eyes before Harry is pulling away coughing and gets off the bed. Zayn watches as Harry walks around to the other side where Louis is with Niall, and Liam is sitting up against the headboard, jerking himself off as he watches everyone.

Harry whispers something to Louis, and Zayn thinks he’s going to be in trouble for choking Harry with his dick. But then what was the wink and nod for? Zayn huffs out a sigh, lying his head against the mattress and thinking people really need to work on their sex signals, if that’s a thing. Out of his periphery, he sees Harry walking back to him so he leans up onto his forearms, watching at Harry climbs back on top of him, swiftly ripping open a condom and sliding it down Zayn’s cock.

Harry looks up at him bashfully. “I’ve never done this with someone else. I wasn’t sure where the condoms were.”

Zayn laughs softly. “It’s fine. I’m clean, anyways.”

“You can never be too sure these days.”

And with that, he slips Zayn’s cock inside of him lowering himself down slowly. It’s not until he’s fully seated with Zayn panting beneath him that he asks, “Is it okay if I ride you?”

And Zayn can’t help but laugh because, “Fuck. Yes, it’s okay.”

Harry grins happily, lifting himself up and letting himself slam back down, making them both gasp. Zayn returns his hands to Harry’s hips, gripping at the slight excess fat there as Harry starts riding him properly. He lets his head fall back against the mattress, staring up at Harry as Harry stares at him, mouth open and curls sticking to his forehead.

“You’re so beautiful, Harry,” he says, wondering why the hell those words just came out of his mouth.

But it makes Harry mewl, starts riding him at a quicker pace, his dick bouncing in front of him and slapping against Zayn’s stomach, leaving blurts of precome. Zayn reaches for Harry’s cock, stroking him firmly as Harry’s pace falters and he braces himself up against Zayn’s chest.

“Fuck, Flynn,” he pants. “Fuck me.”

Zayn reacts before the sentence is fully out of his mouth, letting go of Harry’s cock and uses both hands to grip at Harry’s hips, holding him still and Zayn fucks up into him. His hips are snapping upward, causing an erotic sound of skin slapping skin that fills the room. Harry’s whimpering, his thighs shaking as his head is thrown back, soft moans falling from his mouth.

Zayn glances over to the other side of the bed. He sees Niall sitting in Louis’ lap, his back pressed to the man’s chest as Louis jerks him off. Louis has his head rested on Niall’s shoulder so he can watch them as well. Louis’ eyes slide over to him and catch him looking, then Louis winks at him again, and Zayn loses it.

He comes with a shout, digging his fingers into the soft skin of Harry’s thighs, and he feels the Harry’s warm release against his stomach as the boy moans pornographically, collapsing onto Zayn’s chest. He takes a moment to catch his breath as Harry climbs off of him and disappears from the room. He looks over to see Louis and Liam kissing sweetly, as Niall watches them, smiling.

Zayn clears his throat, standing from the bed. “Alright, well. This was fun. I’m just gonna... go to bed, now.”

They all look over to him as he rids himself of the condom and slips on his underwear, wiping at Harry’s drying come on his stomach. “Okay,” Louis says, rolling over to lie on his back. “You know where we are if you need anything. Goodnight, Flynn.”

Zayn nods and shuffles from the room, heading toward his own room. He grabs his things and goes to find the bathroom in the hall. The door’s locked when he tries to open it, and there’s a shouted _just a second_ from inside. The door opens a moment later to a fresh-looking Harry.

“Sorry,” he says, smiling bashfully down at his feet. “I just took a quick shower.”

“It’s fine,” Zayn says. “Your house anyway.”

Harry grins up at him. “Yeah, you’re right.” He slips around Zayn, switching places so Zayn is now standing in the bathroom. “Well, I’ll be going. And uh, thanks.”

Zayn shakes his head, smiling. “Thank _you_. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He winces internally. This is the most awkward conversation ever. 

“I can’t wait to have you again,” Harry murmurs, winking at Zayn as he slips down the hall and into Louis’ room.

Zayn sighs. This place is just so _weird_. It’s only his first day here and he’s already fucked a guy and was possibly invited to do it again. He’s nearly forgotten that he’s here to investigate whatever the hell is going on. Maybe Ben just sent him to some sort of gay orgy as a joke to get back at Zayn for the time he subscribed Ben to a gay magazine and had them sent directly to his office. He really wouldn’t blame him.

He makes quick work of scrubbing his body in the shower and brushing his teeth. He creeps his way down the hall and into his room. He leaves all of his things on his bed so maybe he’ll be able to feel it if someone tries going through his things. When he crawls into bed, he opens his journal and writes down the day’s events so he’ll have something to tell Ben whenever he gets a chance to call him.

And he smoothly avoids writing about his sexual encounter with Harry, who may or may not be the man charged with murdering his family. He snaps his journal shut and stuffs it under his pillow, forcing himself to fall asleep while thinking that he just fucked a murderer. 

**

Zayn can’t sleep. And, under normal circumstances, he has no problem sleeping throughout the entire night without even waking up once. But, there’s just something about sleeping in a house that’s potentially filled with murderers that just has Zayn waking up around one in the morning and not being able to fall back to sleep. 

He paces around his room, fiddling with the little knickknacks littering a low-hanging shelf. There’s literally nothing he can do right now to fight the insomnia. Ben has confiscated his phone before he left, insisting _this isn’t some sort of vacation getaway_. So Zayn is left to take matters into his own hands. 

He sneaks out of his room, inspecting the floor as he moves to avoid stepping on any loose-looking floorboards. He decides to explore further down the hall, past Louis’ room. He holds his breath as he passes the doorway. Even though the door is closed, he has this odd feeling that they’re a bunch of super humans with excellent hearing. Maybe they’re not, but he can’t be too sure. 

At this end of the hall, there appears to be a small laundry room, and another bedroom. He rounds a corner at the end of the hall, and is surprised to find another set of stairs leading up to another floor. These stairs are more narrow than the main stairs, and Zayn climbs them slowly to avoid making too much noise, but just as he reaches the top step, a loose thread catches on a splintered piece of wood on the step and he tumbles down onto the landing, his knees thudding against the wood, causing the sound to echo throughout the house. 

He panics. He just sits there, staring down the stairs and at the corner leading to the main part of the hall, just waiting for one them to come find him and yell at him for snooping around. And maybe kill him. _Fuck_. He stands up slowly, pressing his back against the wall as he slowly makes his way down the stairs. When he reaches the corner, he peeks his head around, and lets out a sigh of relief when he doesn’t see anyone.

He stands there for a moment, debating whether or not to go back up the stairs or just go back to bed. He figures he won’t be able to go to sleep anyway if he goes back, but if he goes back up there, someone might wake up and come looking for him. He makes his way back up the stairs, thinking it’s what Ben would want him to do.

This floor is barely lit, just the light of the moon coming through the small windows lining the wall. The first door he reaches is locked and his motivation to investigate is deflated. Just as he thought, the next door is also locked, as is the last one at the end. He sighs, hitting his fist against the wall, then automatically regretting it when he realizes he’s standing right above Louis’ room. He rushes over to the stairs, and he spots a small broom closet next to the banister. 

He reaches over, just for the hell of it, to see if it’s open, and nearly falls backward when the door opens. His eyebrows are raised in shock and he looks around to see if it’s someone playing a trick on him. There’s still no one there, so he ducks into the small closet and closes the door behind him before pulling the cord of the light blub in the ceiling. 

The room is small, and smells like an old thrift store. There are jackets hanging on the clothes bar that look like they’ve been put away until winter. He sifts through the heavy jackets, and falls to his knees when he sees a box on the floor behind the clothes. He pulls it closer to him so the light can reach it better. The first thing he sees on top is an old house phone. He pulls it out, wondering why it wouldn’t be out for them to use. The bottom of the box is covered in photographs, and Zayn gasps when he sees the familiar faces of Harry, Niall, and Liam. 

It’s individual pictures of them with their families and friends and some look as if they were on vacation when the photos were taken. Zayn sifts through the photos, observing their smiling faces with their loved ones. He picks up a photo of Harry smiling at the camera with a University of Arizona sweatshirt on. His hands freeze when he hears the toilet flushing downstairs. 

The throws the photos back into the box and pushes it back into place. The turns the light off before quietly opening the door. He twists the handle while closing the door so the lock doesn’t click, and then he nearly stumbles down the stairs. He can hear footsteps sounding from downstairs, so he quickly rounds the corner and makes a beeline for his room. Just before he steps into the doorway, he sees movement in his periphery.

“Flynn?”

Zayn jerks his head to see Niall standing at the top of the stairs. “Hey, Niall. Yeah, it’s me.”

“Where were you? I checked your room, but you weren’t there.”

“I, um. You were in the bathroom, so I tried to find another one ‘cause I really had to piss.”

Niall nods. “Yeah. There’s just the one. You’ll have to wait next time. Sorry, man.”

“It’s alright.” Zayn shrugs. “The feeling’s gone anyway.”

“Okay, man. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Niall.”

Zayn steps into the room and closes the door, sighing in relief. He wonders if that would have gone differently if Louis had found him, instead. He thinks maybe Louis would have sat him in a dark room and interrogated him until he told him everything he knows. Which could be bad, since Zayn feels like he would tell Louis everything.

He crawls into bed, jotting down more notes in his journal about what he found in the box. He tries to fall asleep, but his mind is buzzing with a thousand questions that he wants answered. Many of them are just questions regarding what the hell is going on here. But the one at the forefront of his mind is questioning the contents of that box upstairs, and why all of those rooms are locked. He thinks maybe he’ll be here even _longer_ than he had originally thought if he keeps uncovering things that he needs to find out more about.

He finally falls asleep just as the dawn sky is lighting up his window. He falls asleep thinking maybe Louis isn’t the only one here with a past they’re trying to forget.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn discovers that getting all the guys to like him may be more difficult that he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really liking this story so far, and I hope you are, too!
> 
> It may be a bit boring for a couple chapters, however. Just because I have to cover character-development and all that jazz.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Zayn wakes up, it’s to the smell of bacon curling around the room. For a second, he forgets where he is. He thinks maybe he stayed over at Ben’s because they were working late, and maybe Ben has decided to make them breakfast because he’s decided to be nice for once. But then Zayn’s eyes open fully and he sees the dingy door of the room, and he remembers. 

He sits up abruptly, his heart racing as he takes in his surroundings. He starts punching the mattress as his eyes sting with tears. He really doesn’t want to be here. For some reason, he thought it was all a dream, and that he would wake up back in his crappy apartment, but it would all be better than this weird situation he’s got himself into. Hell, that _Ben_ got him into. He’s ready to just pack up his things and get out of here.

But then there’s a knock at his door.

“Flynn?”

It’s Liam.

Zayn sighs, getting up from his bed and quickly wiping at his eyes. He opens the door and plasters on a smile. “’Morning, Liam.”

“’Morning, Flynn. It’s um, Louis told me to come fetch you for breakfast.”

“Okay, thank you,” Zayn says, clearing his throat to get rid of the cracking from his tears.

“Are – are you okay?” Liam asks, reaching out to touch Zayn’s elbow. 

Zayn flinches at the touch and looks up too see Liam eyeing him oddly. “Y-yeah. I’m fine. I just, got a little homesick, I guess.”

“Ah.” Liam nods, retracting his hand. “I know the feeling. Now, come on and eat something and you’ll feel better in no time.”

“Let me just slip on a pair of sweats and I’ll be right down,” Zayn says, sending Liam a smile so he walks away.

He pulls a pair of black sweatpants out of his bag and tugs them on, also pulling on an oversized sweater. He uses his fingers to brush his fringe out of his eyes as he makes his way downstairs, and walking into the dining room to find everyone sitting at the table, the food spread out across the table. 

“Ah! Good morning, Flynn!” Louis greets, smiling too brightly considering what time it is. “Come. Sit.”

Today, Liam and Niall are sitting closest to Louis, and Harry is seated to Liam’s left, so Zayn takes the seat beside Niall. He gets mumbled _good morning’s_ from them and even a friendly foot nudge from Harry underneath the table. He shoots Harry a shy smile before scooping some scrambled eggs onto his plate and grabbing a few slices of toast. He digs into his eggs, keeping his eyes on his plate as they all eat in silence. He glances up when Harry’s bare toes sneak under the leg opening of his sweats. 

“Would you like some bacon?” Harry asks, offering over a plate of bacon.

Zayn grins as he bites into his toast, swiping a few strips of bacon. “Thanks,” he mumbles, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. 

Harry smiles, setting the plate back down and props his elbow up on the table, resting his chin in his hand. Zayn glances around to every one else around the table, they’re all minding their own business, except Louis. Louis’ eyes are flicking between him and Harry, his food untouched in front of him. Zayn averts his eyes back to his food, finishing it quickly so hopefully he can just tell everyone he isn’t feeling well and he’ll be able to go lie down in his room and get away from these weirdos. 

He scoops up his last forkful of eggs and is about to take his dishes to the kitchen, when Louis clears his throat.

“So, Flynn,” he says. “Seems to me like you’re going to be staying here with us for quite a while, hm?”

Zayn nods his head, fidgeting with his fork. “If it’s no problem?”

“Of course it’s no problem,” Louis replies smoothly. “But. You’ll have to do something to earn your keep. We can’t have someone staying here without paying to live here.”

“But, I don’t have any money.”

“I know that, Flynn. Which is why you’ll be assigned daily tasks to do around here.”

“Tasks? Like what?”

“Oh, you know. Just basic things, like, cooking, cleaning, feeding the animals, keeping weeds out of the yard. Stuff like that.”

Sounds easy enough. “Alright, that’s fair.” Zayn gives him a smile, but Louis’ eyes just flicker down to his mouth before turning away.

“We might as well get started now,” Louis says, glancing around the table. “Flynn, you can have dishes duty this morning, which means you’ll also have dishes duty after dinner. Everyone does their own dishes during lunch since it’s not really a sit-down ordeal.”

Ugh, dishes twice in one day? “Okay, I can do that.” He stands up and starts gathering everyone’s dishes while Louis tells the other boys what they have to do.

He dumps all of the dishes into the sink and starts running the hot water. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he turns to find Harry standing next to him.

“Shit, sorry,” Harry says, laughing. “You missed this.” He hands over an empty juice glass, and Zayn takes it, sighing.

“Thanks.”

Zayn gets started on rinsing all of the dishes, and notices Harry hasn’t left the room. He ignores him though, and just focuses on scrubbing at some stubborn ketchup crusted on a plate.

“He’s not trying to be mean, you know,” Harry says, voice quiet.

Zayn turns to look at him. “Who? Liam?” he asks sarcastically.

Harry laughs, slapping a hand over his mouth quickly. “No, Liam couldn’t harm a fly. Unless he had to, or course.” Zayn hums, pouring some dish soap in to the sink. “Louis is just... very protective of what he’s got set up here.” Harry pauses, and when Zayn glances over to him, his brow his furrowed like he’s thinking. “He’s just got to get to know you first,” he continues. “He was the same way when Niall first showed up here. And now look, Niall’s fucking married to him.” Harry laughs, but Zayn just feels uncomfortable. 

“Listen,” Zayn says. “I don’t know if you’re trying to comfort me or something right now, but I don’t need it, okay? I don’t feel offended or upset that he’s making me do dishes to help out around here. I don’t care.” And okay. That probably came out a little harsher than he was planning. When he looks over at Harry again, the boy is set in shock, his eyes wide and sad. “Shit. I’m sorry,” Zayn says, hanging his head and sighing.

Harry raises his hands up to prevent Zayn from saying anything else. “No, no. It’s fine, Flynn. I just won’t bother trying to help you anymore, okay?” He doesn’t even wait for Zayn to reply, just turns on his heel and stomps out of the kitchen, and the backdoor slams closed moments later.

Zayn groans. Of course he would fuck up his growing-relationship with Harry. All he was trying to do was help Zayn fit-in better and Zayn had to go and be an asshole and tell him he didn’t really want his help. But, truth is, Zayn needs all the help he can get, trying to figure out who the murderer is in this household, let alone if anyone of them _are_ murderers. 

But he can’t bother trying to fix anything right now until he gets the dishes done, so he rinses them quickly and sets them on the drying rack. He dries his hands off on his sweater as he walks back into the dining room, expecting to see Louis sitting at the table, but he’s not there. Zayn sighs, heading to go upstairs, and nearly screams when he finds Louis sitting in a chair next to the staircase. 

“Fuck, you scared me,” Zayn gasps, laughing.

Louis raises a brow. “Well, I _do_ live here.”

“No, no. Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting you to be there.”

Louis hums, tugging at a loose thread on the arm of the chair. “Are the dishes done?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing, now?”

“I was going to go change.”

“And then go outside and see if any of the boys need any help.”

“Um, yeah. Alright.” Zayn turns to start up the stairs.

“Oh, and Flynn?” Louis calls.

Zayn turns, halfway up that stairs. “Yeah?”

Louis turns in his chair so he can level Zayn with a firm look. “If you do anything to hurt Harry, or any of the boys for that matter, I will not be happy. Understand?”

Zayn swallows, nodding quickly. “Yes, of course. I’d never do any such thing.” 

“We’ll see.” Louis nods, turning away.

Zayn runs up the remainder of the stairs his throat feels tight and he suddenly feels like Louis is chasing him up the stairs to kill him. He rushes into his room and closes the door, waiting for Louis to start banging his fists against the door, but they never come. Because Louis isn’t chasing him.

Zayn sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. He really needs to calm down. Just because Louis threatened to possibly kill him (okay, not really), that doesn’t mean he’ll do it right away before Zayn even has a chance to fuck anything up. Not that Zayn _will_ fuck anything up, but he just hopes and prays that he doesn’t.

**

When Zayn gets outside, he sees Niall at the edge of the tree line leading to the dense forest. He’s digging a large hole in the ground for God knows what. Zayn can’t see Harry or Liam, so he just walks over to Niall, figuring he’ll see if he needs any help.

“Hey, Flynn!” Niall greets, rubbing a gloved-hand across his face, smearing dirt along his forehead. 

“’Sup, Ni. Need any help?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Niall says, pulling a spare pair of gloves from his back pocket and tossing them to Zayn. “There’s another shovel around the back of the shed over there.”

“Okay.” Zayn goes over to the shed, walking around it until he finds the shovel, and then returns to Niall. “So what are we digging for?”

“It’s going to starts raining soon, so we’re just digging a trench along the perimeter for the tree line, so excess water won’t reach the house,” Niall explains, as he moves along the perimeter, clearing out dirt.

“Smart,” Zayn comments, moving to the opposite end of the trench and starting to dig.

They both dig in silence, just the sounds of the shovels and birds chirping in the trees above them. Zayn hasn’t done any manual labor in a long time. Not since he did yard work for his neighbors to get some extra cash while he was in high school. He enjoys the burning of the muscles in his arms and in his legs as he works to shovel up the dirt. He doesn’t stop shoveling until there’s sweat pouring down his face, and Niall is running over to him, laughing.

“Dude, stop!” he shouts. “You’ve gone way past the edge of the house.”

Zayn looks up, wiping sweat off his brow, and sees that his section of the trench is extended well beyond the perimeter of the house.

“Sorry, man,” Zayn chuckles. “I guess I got a bit carried away.”

“Obviously.” Niall cackles, smacking a gloved hand against his knee as he laughs, and Zayn can feel his face breaking into a grin. “Alright, man. I guess we’re done here,” Niall says, patting Zayn on the shoulder. “Let’s go see what Haz and Li are up to.”

Zayn nods, following Niall as he heads toward the shed and they put away their shovels. Niall takes him down his small trail leading into the dense tress, away from the house, and Zayn briefly wonders if this is how he dies. But his curiosity outgrows his fear when they reach a clearing in the trees and there’s a small shack surrounded by a low fence. Then Zayn hears the familiar mewl of a goat.

“This is where we keep all the animals,” Niall explains as they duck under the fence. “We keep ‘em so we don’t have to go into town all that often. Louis isn’t a fan of busy cities.”

“That’s cool,” Zayn comments, scrubbing his fingers against the head of a goat that has come up to nibble on his pant leg. 

“Ay, there’re Harry and Liam.” Niall bounds over to inside the shack where Liam has just walked into.

Zayn spots Harry at the side of the shack, combing out a cows hair before grabbing a sponge from a bucket of water next to him and wringing it out over the cow’s back. He looks up and their eyes lock instantly, and Zayn notices the way Harry freezes completely before he averts his eyes and goes back to washing the cow. And Zayn figures he might as well have some fun to loosen the tension between them.

He makes a show of stretching his arms widely in order to somewhat get Harry’s attention. He’s still not looking over, so Zayn grabs the hem of his shirt and tucks his fingers underneath it, covering his fingers with the material of his shirt. He lifts it up and uses it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He sneaks a peak to find Harry not moving at all, just staring at where Zayn is exposing his torso. Zayn grins to himself, then continues pulling his shirt up until he can tug it over his head.

He doesn’t even look up at Harry. He just walks over to him, wrapping his shirt around his hand. He lays his shirt over the fence behind Harry, turning to see Harry scrubbing the sponge along the cow’ side.

“Hey,” Zayn greets, trying his best to look cool as he leans back against the fence. 

Harry glances behind his shoulder at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Oh. Are you talking to me?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m talking to you.”

Harry turns away, but Zayn can see the way his lip pouts out. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I could never be mad at you,” Zayn clarifies, stepping over to Harry. “Now. Need some help washing this cow?” He smiles and nudges Harry in the ribs, making him flinch away, giggling. 

“Yeah, sure. There’s an extra sponge and bucket right there.” Harry points to the extra bucket beside his own.

Zayn retrieves the sponge and begins washing the other side of the cow, opposite from Harry. They keep glancing up at each other when they think they other isn’t looking, but Zayn notices when Harry’s arm slows down, and when he glances up, Harry quickly averts his eyes and speeds up his washing. Zayn smirks, scrubbing behind the cow’s ear, and then flinging his sponge out, spraying water droplets all over Harry’s face. Harry squawks in surprise, his mouth dropping open as he stares at Zayn.

“Oops?” Zayn grins, bending over to rinse off the sponge in the bucket of water. When he straightens up, Harry is waiting for him and slaps his soaking sponge right across his face.

“Oops,” Harry singsongs sarcastically, smiling proudly.

“Oh, you’re dead,” Zayn hisses, reaching down for his bucket and sprinting around the cow and pouring the entire bucket over Harry’s head.

Harry groans flipping his hair out of his eyes and leveling Zayn with a glare. And Zayn’s not sure exactly how it happens, but the next thing he knows, they’re fighting over Harry’s bucket of water like a couple of children. Zayn holds the bucket down so Harry can’t pick it up, making Harry cuss him out. But Harry is quick to accommodate and starts scooping the water out with cupped hands, splashing it in Zayn’s face. Then they both start scooping water out at throwing it at each other. And they probably look like a couple of dorky children, but Zayn couldn’t care less. He’s reveling in the fact that Harry isn’t ignoring him, and he’s smiling and giggling and Zayn feels as if all of his stress has been lifted away. 

“You’re a dick,” Harry huffs once the water is all gone. “You’re barely even wet.”

Zayn shrugs. “I grew up with an older brother. I know how to defend myself.”

Harry just glares at him, twisting his shirt in his hands to wring out some of the water. It’s cute, really. Because Harry’s hair is all curly and fluffy anymore, just soaking wet and curling slightly against his neck and forehead. His face is stuck in a permanent pout as he continues to try and get the water out of his shirt. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and his lips are shiny and red. Zayn wonders how it would feel to slide his lips against Harry’s wet ones.

“You look like an angry baby Tarzan,” Zayn says, stepping over to the fence.

“I do not,” Harry protests, glaring at Zayn from between the wet locks of hair hanging in his face. 

“Yes you do.” Zayn grins when Harry just grumbles in response. “Here, it’s dry.” He offers over his shirt he took off earlier.

“But then you won’t have a shirt,” Harry says while taking the shirt anyway.

“I don’t mind.” Zayn shrugs, watching as Harry removes his soaked shirt and puts Zayn’s on. “And I don’t think you do, either.” He gently slaps Harry’s butt before jogging away to see what Niall and Liam are doing in the shack. 

He glances over his shoulder before he steps inside to find Harry smiling to himself as he picks up the sponges and buckets. He watches as the fabric of his shirt moves over Harry’s muscles, pulling taut across his shoulders. Suddenly Harry’s eyes glance over to catch him staring. Harry raises his eyebrows, a smirk pulling at his lips, almost asking ‘ _like what you see?_ ’, and then he starts flexing his arms obnoxiously, doing weird stances with his legs as he flexes his arms out to the side.

Zayn laughs at him, making Harry stop and laugh too, a soft blushes playing against his cheeks. And as Zayn steps further into the shack, he can’t help but thinking how fucked he is for crushing on the first guy he’s fucked, who is also married to a man who has two other husbands. 

Yeah, Zayn’s fucked.

**

By the time Zayn has finished helping Liam and Niall spread out fresh hay bedding for the animals, his muscles are aching and he’s sweat so much that it no longer tastes like salt when it drips into his mouth. He no longer has his shirt on to wipe the sweat from his brow, so he’s resorted to wiping his forearms over his face. 

He, Niall, and Liam make it back to the main house when the sun is casting a sherbet-orange haze across the sky, mixed with vibrant hues of purple. The breeze is a bit colder than it was earlier, and Zayn thinks Niall was right about the rains coming soon. He wonders if there’s anything else they’ll have to do to prepare for the impending winter that’s sure to come in less than three months. He also wonders if he’s going to be here that long. He thinks he most likely won’t be, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Because the air conditioner in the house is quickly cooling off his flushed skin, Niall and Liam are wrestling for the remote, and Harry is sauntering over to him with a tray covered in glasses of what appears to be fresh lemonade with a bright grin on his face, and he’s still wearing Zayn’s shirt. Liam and Niall break momentarily to chug down their own glasses of lemonade, racing each other in an attempt to get the remote first. Zayn thinks they’re all a bunch of children, but then again, he and Harry aren’t any better, considering their water fight earlier.

“You look hot,” Harry tells him. 

Zayn scoffs, “Pshh. I _always_ look hot.” Harry smacks him upside the head.

“You need me to turn the air conditioner down?”

“Nah, I should be good.” Zayn presses the cold side of his glass against his cheek, hissing at the cool shock of it.

“Here,” Harry says. Then he’s placing Zayn’s lemonade on the coffee table and leaning over, pressing his cold hands against Zayn’s cheeks.

Zayn gasps. “Your hands are so cold.”

“They’re always cold.” Harry shrugs.

“And they smell like lemons.”

“Okay, they _don’t_ always smell like lemons.” Harry chuckles, flipping his hands to press the backs of them to Zayn’s cheeks. 

Zayn grins, but the way Harry is pressing against his cheeks is probably making it look all distorted. Harry smiles back at him, pressing against his cheeks more firmly, and Zayn notices how close they are, now; Harry practically draped across his lap.

“Where’s Louis?” Zayn asks.

Harry quickly retracts his hands, interlocking them in his lap. “Uh, I think he was upstairs. Getting ready to do laundry, maybe.”

“I’m gonna go grab some of my clothes that need washed,” Zayn says, standing from the couch and hustling up the stairs.

“I’ll be waiting!” Harry calls. Zayn tries to fight the grin threatening to overtake his face.

Zayn stops abruptly when he steps into his room to find Louis standing by his bed. The bed sheets are in a pile on the floor and Zayn’s journal is open in Louis’ hands. Zayn doesn’t even think before he jumps forward and snatches it away.

“That’s private!” he shouts, glaring at the man.

Louis just bends down to pick up the sheets. “It’s fine, Flynn,” he says coolly once he’s straightened up. “Everyone’s got their secrets, but you don’t seem like someone with anything worth hiding.”

Zayn’s brow furrows the hardest he thinks it ever has. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Louis doesn’t reply, just raised a perfectly arched brow at him and quietly exits the room, leaving Zayn to stew in his own confusion and frustration. He skims though his journal, rereading what he’s already written just to verify that Louis didn’t read something he wasn’t supposed to. The only he finds worrying is Ben’s name scrawled across the first page with his phone number and the address to his office written beneath it.

He just hopes Louis doesn’t have a way of researching the address and finding out Zayn has connections with an investigation bureau. 

That could end badly.

Possibly death.

Yet again, Zayn’s fucked. 

**

It’s later that night, while Zayn is washing the dishes from dinner, when Louis confronts him.

“Who’s Ben?” a voice asks from somewhere behind Zayn. 

Zayn spins around, soapsuds dripping down his forearms. He knows his eyes are probably as wide as a frightened baby deer’s, but Louis’ stern voice just turns him into a frightened baby deer, honestly. He swallows thickly, composing his features and turning back to the sink.

“He’s, uh. He’s my dad.” He focuses on the burning of the scalding water on his hands, instead of the holes Louis’ eyes are burning into the back of his head.

“Dad, huh?” Louis asks from behind him. Zayn nods his head. “You planning on going back, or something?”

“I dunno,” Zayn mumbles, loosely shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe some day.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Zayn hopes maybe Louis slipped from the room, but he tenses up again when Louis asks,

“Why’d you write his name? Why not ‘dad’?”

“Because, well. I’ve always called him by his first name for some reason—” _Because he’s my boss, and it’d be weird to call him ‘daddy’_. “—probably out of respect or something.” 

“Good to know you respect your elders,” Louis says, and his smirk is so _audible_ in his voice. 

Zayn shuts the water off and turns to face Louis, drying his hands with a dishtowel. “Only if they deserve it,” he says, arching a brow. 

Louis kind of looks dumbstruck. Like he can’t quite believe that Zayn has the balls to stand up to him. And Zayn’s brain is cheering for what a good job he’s doing, but his demeanor is quickly crumbling, because there’s also a small voice in his head saying it’s probably not the _best_ idea to make a possible-murderer angry, because well. He might murder Zayn. 

But luckily Liam calls out for Louis, saying something about the movie starting, so Louis leaves the room, his eyes steadily sliding over Zayn until he’s completely out of the room. And Zayn has to act fast, because he really doesn’t want to wake up dead tomorrow. He at least wants to find out, himself, that Louis _is_ a murderer, and _then_ Louis can kill him. Preferably not, but yeah. 

He darts into the pantry, rummaging through canned foods and boxed rice, and nearly cheering when he finds bags of microwavable popcorn. He cooks two bags and pours them both into one bowl. When he gets into the living room, Louis and Liam are sitting on the loveseat, and Harry and Niall are taking up the other sofa. He walks over to Louis nudging at his shoulder and offering the bowl of popcorn.

“Can’t watch a movie without popcorn, right?” Zayn asks, giving his best innocent smile.

Louis glances between Zayn and the bowl of popcorn for a moment, before taking the bowl with a nod of his head.

“Ah, sweet,” Niall chirps. “I knew I could smell popcorn, but I thought I was just imagining it.” Harry giggles at that, tugging Niall in by the collar of his shirt to kiss him. 

Zayn takes his seat in the recliner, watching as Niall presses Harry into the sofa, kissing him senseless. There is a familiar knot of jealousy twisting in his stomach, but it’s quickly forgotten when he looks over to find Louis watching him, tossing popcorn into his mouth with a raise of his brow. Zayn gives a quick, nervous smile before turning to the TV.

He’s debating if he should just call Ben tomorrow and tell him he can’t do this anymore. Then he can leave, tell Louis he’s going back home, and then he won’t have to deal with Louis’ odd behavior, or the blossoming crush he’s forming with Harry. He can go back to his normal, stupid life that he’s actually starting to miss. But when he glances over to find Harry watching him with a mischievous glint in his eye and a small smile playing at his lips, Zayn worries if he _does_ go back, he’ll miss Harry more than he’s ever missed anything.

And that self-confession scares Zayn more than the fact he could be living with a murderer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are truly appreciated! Let me know what your thoughts are, so far! (:


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going good, until they're not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: none of this is real, and all mistakes are my own.

One thing Zayn has found out while staying here, is that time goes by right before his eyes.

It’s been almost a month since he’s shown up, and he already feels like he’s been given his own place. He helps out with everything that needs to be done without complaining. And he’s even gotten closer to Liam, who wouldn’t give him two glances during the first week. But it turns out Liam and Zayn actually have quite a bit in common, and Zayn finds himself hanging out with Liam for most of the time while they’re working outside. He, Liam and Niall are usually the ones to do most of the ‘muscle work’, while Harry does most of the housework, and easy tasks outside. Zayn used to not be bothered by it, but lately, with winter getting closer and closer, they’ve have more things to do outside to help prepare everything and Zayn really wishes they could have an extra pair of hands to help out.

He and Liam are currently rebuilding the shack for the animals since the old wood has started to deteriorate under the Arizona sun. He keeps glancing over to Harry who is sweeping off the porch and watering the plants in the garden.

“Ow! Fuck, Flynn,” Liam grumbles, sucking his thumb into his mouth. “Pay attention when you’re swinging that hammer.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. It’s just... Why doesn’t Harry help out with this stuff?”

Liam scoffs, lowering his voice. “Because he’s Louis’ favorite.”

_Interesting_. “So Louis makes the rest of us do all the shit-work just because he likes Harry more?”

“Basically.” Liam shrugs. “It was just them two, at first. Out here. Then Niall showed up, then me. So, I guess they just have a better connection than Louis does with the rest of us.”

Zayn hummed, hammering up a wooden board. “Does it bother you? Like, Louis not treating all of you fairly?”

Liam’s arms fall to his sides and he tilts his head, thinking. “No? I don’t think so, at least. Like, he has a reason to like him more since they’ve known each other longer. It’s like, if you have a kid, then your kid brings a friend over, you’re not gonna love them equally, because one of them is your kid, y’know?” He shrugs, then his eyes widen. “I’m not saying Harry is Louis’ son. Oh, God. I just used it as an example.”

Zayn laughs, clapping Liam on the shoulder. “I know what you mean, man.”

Liam sighs, his shoulders relaxing and a smile pulling across his face. “Okay, cool. Now, let’s get this fucking shack done. I’m starving.”

“Right.” Zayn nods, lifting up a board for Liam to nail to the frame of the shack. “Whose turn for dinner?”

“It’s Harry’s. And – God – he always cooks the best things. Makes me wonder if he actually made it in our kitchen.”

Zayn hammers a nail into the corner of the board. “How come he hasn’t cooked since I’ve been here?”

Liam grabs another board. “I guess Louis didn’t want to spoil you right away.”

“So, now he deems me worthy of Harry’s cooking?” Zayn jokes.

“Something like that,” Liam mumbles, nailing the final board to the back wall of the shack. “Finished! That didn’t take us very long. If it were me and Niall, he would’ve complained the whole time and taken breaks every fifteen minutes.”

Zayn chuckles. “What’s Niall doing, anyway?”

“I think he said something about going to fetch water for the water heater. Tonight we can have good, long showers.” Liam’s face brightens. “Maybe I’ll even ask Louis to join me.”

Zayn nearly swallows his tongue. “You guys do that? Shower together?”

“Yeah.” Liam looks confused by the question. “But it’s so small, usually can only fit another person with you. And if you want Harry or Niall to join you, you have to ask them first, and then clarify it with Louis.”

Zayn hangs his hammer up next to Liam’s in the shed. “So, like. You guys can’t do anything without Louis’ permission?”

Liam takes off his shirt and uses it to wipe at his sweaty face. “Usually only if it has something to with sex, or like, something Louis might consider a ‘big deal’.” He glances over to Zayn. “Just to be safe, I’d ask him about anything before doing it.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Well, the way I look at it, this is his house, and I’m just a guest. I mean, sure _technically_ I’m his husband, but he didn’t _have_ to let me stay here, y’know? Let alone, marry him.” Liam shrugs. “So, no. It doesn’t bother me having to ask for his permission to do anything. I’m thankful for everything he’s done for me, the least I can do is respect him.”

“Makes sense, yeah.” Zayn nods, but there’s still a nagging in the back of his mind wondering why Liam thinks everything going on here is so normal, why they all got married in the first place, why they all think living like this is better than living out in the real world. It’s just really strange, and makes no sense at all. 

Liam holds the door open for him, and messes up his hair as Zayn walks into the house. “Don’t worry about everything, Flynn. It’ll all make sense to you, sooner or later.”

Zayn just shoots a grin at him over his shoulder, and heads into the kitchen, the smell of something delicious pulling him in. Harry’s in the kitchen, wearing an apron and using a wooden spoon to lip sync to some old rock song playing on the – wait, is that a _frilly_ apron? Harry notices him, immediately dropping the wooden spoon onto the counter, and a beautiful blush spreads across the apples of his cheeks.

“Where’s Louis?” Zayn asks, stepping closer to Harry.

“He went into town. He—Flynn, what are you—”

Zayn silences him with a kiss, his hands gripping at the frilly fabric on Harry’s hips. Harry sighs into his mouth, hands coming up to grip at Zayn’s shoulders. They lick hungrily into each other’s mouths, and Zayn knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He would have to ask Louis first, especially since it’s _Harry_ he has moaning into his mouth, sucking at his lips.

“You’re sweaty,” Harry gasps, pulling back just slightly.

Zayn ignores the comment. He ducks down to kiss at Harry’s neck, nipping at the skin but making sure to not leave any marks that Louis will notice later. He moves back up to kiss the bow of Harry’s lips as his hands grip at the apron.

“You should wear this more often,” he says, nuzzling against Harry’s jaw. 

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice has gone breathy.

Zayn hums, moving up to press his lips against Harry’s ear. “But with nothing on underneath.” Harry mewls. “And preferably while you’re riding my cock.” And, whoa. Zayn’s never spoken like this to anyone else before. He’s never really been one for dirty talk, but _fuck_. Harry just does something to him.

“Shit. Flynn,” Harry is saying, trying to push Zayn away. “You should—go take a shower. Calm down. Okay? I have to—prepare dinner.”

Zayn grips tighter at his hips. “I want to shower with you. Liam told me you guys do that.”

Harry looks at him with wide eyes. “Yeah—I mean, yeah, we do that. Um. Have you asked Louis?”

“I’ll ask him when he gets home. But that’s a yes, right?”

“ _Fuck, yeah_. I mean, yes. Yes, okay.”

Zayn grins, pecking Harry on the lips, then quickly spins around when he hears the front door open and Louis calling out a greeting. “I’ll go ask him, now.” He turns to wink at Harry before meandering out of the kitchen.

Louis is standing by the front door, grocery bags in-hand while he hangs up his scarf. Things haven’t been as awkward between him and Louis. At least, just not as much as it used to be. Louis still acts as mysterious as ever, and Zayn just wants to bombard him with questions, but he’s afraid of saying something wrong and then no one will ever know he’s been murdered. So yeah, they haven’t been doing much talking. Aside from whenever Louis will talk to Zayn about Harry, or about work that needs to be done.

Louis looks up, noticing Zayn standing in the doorway. “Good evening, Flynn. You and Liam finish building the shack?”

“Yeah.” Zayn nods, wringing his hands. “Niall filled the water heater, too.”

Louis just nods, a curious smile on his lips as he tilts his head, like he’s asking Zayn to continue.

“And, um. Well, Liam told me that you all sometimes shower together?” Zayn swallows, suddenly feeling nervous. “And, so, I guess I was just wondering if it would be okay if I asked Harry to join me.”

Louis’ brow furrows as he adjusts the bags in his hands. Zayn can literally _feel_ the impending ‘no’ that’s going to come out of Louis’ mouth. Because he’s been doing too much with Harry already. It’s most likely becoming obvious that Zayn has a little crush going on, but he hadn’t really worried about it until right now.

“Okay,” Louis says, making Zayn’s head snap toward him. “But only if Harry agrees, alright?” 

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t—yeah, no. Yeah.” Zayn wills himself to shut up.

Louis gives a curt nod before stepping past Zayn and into the kitchen. Zayn follows him and watches as Harry’s face lights up, giving Louis a lingering kiss before retrieving the bags and sorting through them. He pulls out several potatoes from one bag, and Zayn’s brow furrows.

“Don’t we have potatoes in the garden?” He asks, gesturing over his shoulder.

Louis turns to him and Harry smiles guiltily. “We _do_. But Harry, here, thinks they ‘ _don’t taste right_ ’.” He uses air quotes and Harry slaps his arm, defending himself with a drawn out ‘hey’. “It’s true, darling.” Louis hums, slapping Harry’s backside when he turns away. 

Zayn knows he shouldn’t, but he always tends to get a little jealous whenever he witnesses Louis and Harry interacting like this. Which is ridiculous, considering they’re a married couple and Zayn has no right to want to keep Harry all to himself when he’s not even available. However, he still finds himself glancing away when they get a little _too_ cute with each other.

“Okay, boys,” Harry is saying, his hands on his hips, fingers gripping at the frilly fabric. “Out of my kitchen!” He points to the door, raising his head, and Zayn has to fight the fond smile wanting to pull at his lips. 

Zayn and Louis shuffle from the kitchen; Louis mumbling something under his breath. They find Liam and Niall in the living room, a game show playing on TV while Niall shouts out answers that are obviously wrong and Liam explaining why he’s not correct. Zayn glances over to Louis, who is standing beside him, and he’s smiling softly at the two other boys.

“You two already showered?” Louis asks, walking over to sit beside Niall.

Liam turns quickly in shock, obviously having not heard them enter the room. “Yeah. Well, I was going to ask you to join me later, but Ni and I were just too sweaty.” Liam glances over to Zayn. “I’m actually surprised Flynn hasn’t taken one, either. He was about as sweaty as I was.”

Louis’ eyes flicker over to him. “He’s waiting until after dinner, I guess.” He makes a face that Zayn can’t really see. “Asked Haz to join him.”

Liam and Niall both turn to Louis, their expressions silently asking ‘ _And you said yes?_ ’. At least Zayn isn’t the only one surprised by Louis’ agreement.

Louis ignores their stares, and turns to watch the TV, leaving everyone in the room thoroughly confused. Zayn doesn’t get it. If Louis didn’t want him spending so much time with Harry, wouldn’t he just say so and, like, _ban_ them from being together? It’s weird how Louis acts irritated about it, but doesn’t do anything to stop it. Zayn think Louis might be setting him up for something. He’s not sure _what_ , but he doesn’t think it will end on a good note. 

**

Dinner goes by smoothly. Sort of. Okay, maybe not.

Zayn notices Louis keeps serving himself glasses of whiskey, while everyone else stopped at around two. He’s not sure what calls for alcohol tonight, but Louis keeps giving disgusted looks to him and Harry, so Zayn thinks that might have something to do with it.

“Remember the first night you got here, Flynn?” Louis asks, sloshing his half-full glass around.

Zayn nods, eyeing him carefully. “Of course, yeah.”

Louis stares at him for a moment, a knowing smirk on his face. “He told me, y’know.” He points at Niall, whose face blanks in confusion. “About your little midnight adventures.”

Zayn can feel his heart starting to race, his blood rushing through his veins. “What?” he asks, clearing his throat. “When I went looking for another bathroom?” He glances to Niall, raising his eyebrows, but Niall just shrugs and shakes his head. 

“Are you sure it was a bathroom you were looking for?” Louis asks, leaning forward against the table.

“I don’t – I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Louis pushes away from the table, his chair flying out from underneath him and slamming against the wall behind him. “Don’t give me that shit!” Harry is suddenly standing by Louis’ side, rubbing at his arm. “You went into the closet, didn’t you?” His nostrils are flaring and Zayn can’t stop staring at him in shock.

“Y-yes,” he chokes out, leaning closer to Liam.

Louis laughs, dry and dark. “You forgot to put the phone back in the box. Did you know that? I wouldn’t have known if you had just paid attention and put the fucking phone back in the box.”

“Lou,” Harry murmurs, but Louis shoves him away.

“Don’t ‘ _Lou_ ’ me!” he quips, turning to glare at Zayn. “What did you find out, huh? What do you know?”

“I don’t—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Louis shouts, knocking his plate off the table, causing it to hit the wall and shatter all over the floor. “I know. I know you know something. You probably wrote about it in your little journal, didn’t you?”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, because what the fuck is he supposed to say. He doesn’t _know_ anything. But, apparently silence isn’t the answer Louis was looking for, because next thing Zayn knows, Louis is standing next to him fisting the collar of his shirt in his hand.

“Tell me!” he’s shouting. “What. Do. You. Know?”

Zayn’s fucking terrified. All he can hear is his blood rushing and the frantic murmurs telling Louis to _calm down_ and _let him go_. Zayn doesn’t even know what he knows. He didn’t even get a good look at the photos that were in the box. Except...

“All I know is that Harry went to U of A,” Zayn rushes, his breathing heavy. “Or he knew someone who went there, or he was just a fan. I don’t know!”

Louis’ eyes flit over his face, accessing, before he lets go of his shirt, and Zayn relaxes back into his chair, trying to calm down. Harry rushes to Louis’ side again. They’re saying something to each other, but Zayn can’t hear them, and he honestly doesn’t really care right now, because _what the fuck was that?_

“I’m gonna go help him get to bed,” Harry is saying, helping to support Louis’ weight and leading him from the room.

Zayn, Niall, and Liam all just sit in silence, staring off into different corners of the room, before Liam stands up and begins to clean the broken plate off the floor. Niall gets up to help him, picking up the knocked over chair and setting it at the table. No one is saying anything about what just happened, but Zayn really wishes they would, because _what the fuck_?

“Listen,” Niall says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I only told Louis you went searching for a bathroom that night because he heard me talking to you. Now, I don’t know if you lied to me about looking for another bathroom, but I really hope you didn’t because then that means I lied to Louis.”

“Niall. I—”

“No, Flynn. What’s done is done.” Niall sighs and Liam rubs at his back. “I just. Don’t lie to anyone around here, alright? I’m not saying you did, but don’t do it.”

Zayn nods jerkily, averting his eyes to the chip of paint that the plate took out of the wall. “Okay, yeah. No problem. I’m sorry for causing all of this.”

“No,” Liam says, pouting. “Don’t be sorry. Everybody makes mistakes sooner or later. Besides, Louis was most likely overreacting since he was drunk.”

Zayn’s about to speak up, ask Liam what mistakes he made, but then Harry walks into the room.

“Flynn,” he says, eyes flitting awkwardly between the others. “I want to—we can take a shower now.” He looks over to Liam and Niall. “Would you two mind taking the empty bedroom, tonight? I think it’s best we give Louis some space, for now.”

Niall and Liam voice their agreements, and everyone wishes each other a goodnight and Harry intertwines his finger with Zayn’s and pulls him upstairs. They stop outside Zayn’s door, both glancing over to the bathroom.

“Get your things ready,” Harry tells him. “I’ll be in there.”

Zayn nods, going into his room and sighing loudly once he hears the bathroom door click shut. At least Harry isn’t mad at him. Or maybe he is, and just hasn’t shown it yet. But then why would Harry still want to shower with him? Maybe to get him alone so he can murder him. Oh, God. Zayn _really_ needs to calm down. He gathers a pair of boxers and a towel from the stack in his room, then goes into the bathroom.

The light is off, but the shower is running and Zayn can feel the steam in the air filling his lungs. He waits until he closes the door to flick on the light and he gasps when he sees Harry sitting on the countertop by the sink next to him.

He’s completely naked, and his long legs hang of the edge gracefully. He’s staring at a spot on the floor, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. His hair is flopping over to hang in front of his face, and Zayn thinks he looks breathtakingly beautiful. He sets his things down by Harry’s thigh and moves over to step in between Harry’s legs, using his index finger to tilt Harry’s head up to look at him. Once their eyes meet, Harry’s brow smooths out and he releases all his breath in one long sigh. His eyes are hooded at he watches Zayn, and Zayn is pretty sure Harry’s eyes keep flickering down to his mouth. And if that isn’t an invitation to kiss, then he doesn’t know what it. 

He ducks down, moving slowly as to not scare him away, and he moves in further when he feels Harry’s hands reaching out to grip at his waist, his legs tightening around Zayn’s hips. Zayn brushes their noses together and he can feel Harry’s eyelashes brush against his cheek as he closes his eyes. He can feel Harry’s warm breath on his lips before he closes the space between them, sealing their lips. 

Harry responds immediately; spreading his legs wider to allow Zayn to get closer to him, his hands moving to caress Zayn’s neck, thumb brushing over his Adam’s apple. Zayn tangles his hands in Harry’s hair to pull him close as they work their lips together, prying Harry’s mouth open to slip his tongue inside and experience the taste that he’s become too familiar with.

Harry pulls back slightly, his eyes glossy and clouded. “Let’s move this to the shower.” He leans back in to suck at Zayn’s lower lip as he slips off the counter.

Zayn steps back to remove his shirt and toss it into the sink. He watches Harry step into the shower as he steps out of his jeans and boxer briefs. Harry steps under the stream of water, running his hands through his hair, and then down his body. He blinks at Zayn through wet lashes, and Zayn nearly trips over his own feet as he joins Harry in the shower. He reaches out, rubbing his hands up Harry’s torso and pushes at his chest to press him against the wall.

Harry laughs breathlessly, gripping at Zayn’s biceps. Zayn brushes Harry’s wet hair out of his eyes, and leans in to kiss a drop of water from his nose. Harry tilts his head up to catch Zayn’s lips, sucking his tongue into his mouth. Harry pushes him down to sit on the small shelf ledge, then drops down onto his knees between Zayn’s legs. 

“You should relax,” Harry says, and Zayn can barely hear it over the sound of the water.

He tilts his head back against the tiled wall, watching with hooded eyes as Harry rubs his hands along his inner thighs, his thumbs pressing into the base of Zayn’s cock. Zayn’s legs twitch when Harry gets a hand around him, pumping him so slowly that Zayn thinks it could be a form of punishment. 

“We should—we should wash first,” Zayn mumbles. “I’m not gonna want to do anything once we’re done.”

Harry quirks a brow and squeezes some shower gel into his hand before wrapping it around Zayn’s cock again, stroking a bit faster to work it up into a lather. “I’ve got this part,” he says, winking.

Zayn groans, but he reaches for the shampoo and works some through Harry’s hair, scrubbing at his scalp. Harry arches up into his hands, his eyes closing as he strokes Zayn quicker. Zayn stands up and leans forward to rinse the suds off his cock, and his legs nearly give out when Harry slides his mouth over his cock.

“Shit.” Zayn sighs, angling Harry’s head so he can wash the shampoo out while keeping Harry’s mouth on him. 

Harry hums and it makes Zayn’s body vibrate. He glances down to see Harry’s stroking himself, his fist twisting at the head of his cock. Harry looks up at him, blinking water from his eyes and teasing his tongue along the underside of Zayn’s cock. Zayn groans, gripping at Harry’s hair tightly. Harry gestures to the shampoo with his eyes, and it takes Zayn a good five seconds to get the message.

He washes his hair as Harry continues sucking him down. And it’s probably not the best cleaning he’s done, but it’s good for now. Harry suddenly takes him all the way down in one go, nuzzling his nose into Zayn’s groin, making Zayn gasp and lean forward to brace himself up on the wall. He hangs his head between his shoulders, letting the water wash the soap from his hair as he watches Harry pull off his dick to stroke him.

Harry looks up at him, all bright eyes and red lips and looking so, _so_ innocent. _He’s such a beautiful contradiction_ , Zayn thinks as Harry opens his mouth and juts out his lower lip to rub the head of Zayn’s cock along it. And then Zayn’s coming, thrusting his hips slightly as Harry sucks him through it. Then Harry moans around him and Zayn opens his eyes just in time to see Harry pulling off of him with a blissed out expression on his face as he strokes himself through his own orgasm. 

“Harry,” Zayn breathes, closing his eyes to revel in the aftershocks of pleasure. 

Then Harry is standing in front of him and kissing him senseless, licking into his mouth so Zayn can taste the traces of his own come on his tongue. They exit the shower and Zayn has to remember how to use his legs. He dries himself with his towel and slips on his underwear. He presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek as he’s drying off, and Zayn wishes him a quiet ‘ _goodnight_ ’ before going back into his room. 

He’s lying on his bed, jotting down the day’s events into his journal, taking special note of Louis’ unexpected outburst, and underlining it a few times. He’s just tucked his journal under his pillow when there’s a soft knock at his door before it opens and Harry tiptoes inside.

“What are you doing here?” Zayn whispers, but he’s making room for Harry on the bed before he gets an answer.

Harry smiles shyly and crawls under the covers, pressing himself up close to Zayn. He rests his head on the pillow next to Zayn’s and looks up at him from under his lashes. “I just wanted to give Louis some space. He was pretty wasted.”

Zayn hums and wraps an arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer. Harry presses his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck and releases a deep sigh. They just lie together in silence for moment.

“Were you really looking for a bathroom that night?” Harry asks, pulling back just slightly.

Zayn stares down at him, debating on whether or not he should tell the truth. Honestly, Harry is a lot closer to Louis than he is to Zayn, so Harry would most likely go tell Louis everything Zayn tells him. And that’s something that Zayn doesn’t really need happening since he isn’t even close to completing his investigation job. So, lying as if it’s the truth seems like the way to go, right now.

“Yeah. Um, Niall was using the only one I knew about, and I figured a house this big must have more than one bathroom.” He shrugs, tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear. “I guess I was wrong about that.”

Harry props himself up on an elbow, his brow furrowed as he watches Zayn. “But why—why would you go through the box in the closet? That’s really rude.”

Zayn swallows, blinks a few times, then swallows again. He honestly doesn’t know what to say. _Because I was sent here to find out everything I can to see if one of you belong behind bars_. No, that doesn’t have a nice ring to it.

“I know. I don’t know why I did it.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I guess I was just being curious, and I couldn’t sleep. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but...” He shrugs, giving Harry a sheepish smile.

Harry averts his eyes, looking down to where his hand is plucking at the sheet. “What did you see?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“Nothing,” Zayn rushes to say, placing a hand on Harry’s bare shoulder. “I just saw a picture of you wearing a U of A sweatshirt.” He feels Harry tense just a bit, so he continues, “You were practically swimming in it.” He leans in to nudge their noses together, and he can feel Harry’s breathy laugh against his lips. “Looked so adorable.”

Harry scoffs and rolls them over so he’s straddling Zayn’s hips. “I am _not_ adorable. I’m handsome... and rugged.”

Zayn grins up at him, brushing his fingers along Harry’s lower abdomen. “Sure you are, babe. And who’s the one who never does any of the hard, manly work outside?”

Harry gasps indignantly, swatting at Zayn’s chest. “That’s only so I don’t put you and Liam to shame once you see how strong I am.”

Zayn lifts himself up into sitting position using the muscles of his abdomen, and snags Harry’s lips into a kiss. “You should sleep now, babe. Must’ve been tiring cooking that amazing dinner.”

Harry rolls off of him, pouting. “It was.”

Zayn shushes him and works his fingers through Harry’s curls until he can hear Harry’s breathing even out, signaling he’s fallen asleep. Zayn then carefully retrieves his journal from beneath the pillow Harry is sleeping on. He squints his eyes so he can make out the page in his journal before he starts writing down a few more notes.

_University of Arizona – Harry (student??)_  
 _tense subject to discuss with Harry_  
 _seemed worried about me going through the box of their belongings_  
 _maybe Louis isn’t the only one worried about me snooping around the house_  
 _how does Niall and Liam feel about this?_  
 _does Harry have something he’s trying to hide from me?_

And, as Zayn slips the journal underneath his pillow, the only thing on his mind is getting back into that closet and finding out what Louis and Harry are worried about him finding out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really diggin' this. I hope you are, too!
> 
> Let me know what you're thinking (:


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter is coming and Zayn has started to feel at home, but then he remembers why he's there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none of this is real and all mistakes are my own.

If Zayn has been keeping track of the days correctly, it’s the middle of November. 

He’s been living here for a little over two months, now, and he still finds it crazy how quickly the days are flying by. He sometimes wonders if Ben had planned on him living here for this long, but then Zayn really can’t leave yet, anyway, since he hasn’t figured out much of anything. Sometimes, when he’s lying in bed at night, most nights with a snoring Harry beside him, he’ll find himself imagining staying here for six more months, a _year_ , even. He imagines life out here would be pretty nice – quiet and relaxing. But then he remembers he’s not supposed to be having these thoughts; he’s supposed to get his job done and get the hell out of here, which might be more complicated than he thought. 

He’s figured that finding out information is going to be more difficult than he had originally expected it would be. He can’t exactly just ask them all if they ran away from murder charges for killing their family. Zayn doesn’t think that would go over that well. Plus, it’s becoming seemingly the most difficult to get information out of the most suspicious one of them all.

He quickly realized that Louis is one of those people who completely ignore something they did if they found it embarrassing, or whatever. Louis never apologized for completely going berserk over Zayn rummaging through the box of photos. It’s as if Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Harry were all waiting for Louis to say _something_ about it, but he never did. He just continued on, acting like he isn’t a complete psychopath, and even talks to Zayn as if it shouldn’t be completely weird between them. But Zayn still thinks it’s weird, just because it should be.

With it getting closer to winter, the leaves of the trees gradually changing colors and falling off, they’ve started doing more work outside. A majority of it is raking up all of the fallen leaves that annoy Harry because he thinks ‘it makes the ground look ugly’. Niall seems to enjoy raking the most, and he even got Zayn to start helping him, but it usually ends with Niall using his rake as a guitar, making terrible electric guitar sounds with his mouth, and Zayn using his own rake as a microphone, belting out the highest note he can reach. Liam says they’re pretty impressive, and Harry watches on with a fond smile; all while Louis pretends like nothing is happening. 

He and Niall are raking, now, and Liam is putting down more hay in the animal stables, “Functions as insulation to help keep them warm,” he had explained. Louis and Harry are up by the porch washing the animals, one after the other. Harry is in charge of warming up water on the stove in the house, then bringing it outside and pouring it into a huge basin that Louis uses to wash the animals. Harry also helps to dry off the animals and lead them back into the stables, cooing at them the whole way there. He’s wearing the shirt Zayn had given him back when they had their water fight while washing one of the cows, and his hair is tied up into a ponytail, but the bottom-half of his hair is too short to stay tied-up, curling around the nape of his neck. 

Zayn wants to kiss him. But he should probably finish raking first.

He feels a scratching at the back of his thigh, and he jumps away from it, spinning around to find Niall cackling at him, shielding himself with his rake.

“What?” Zayn hisses, aggressively raking up a smile pile of leaves.

He can see Niall shrug in his periphery. “I dunno. You were just about to start drooling from staring at Harry for too long.”

Zayn glares at him. “I was _not_.”

“Were too,” Niall singsongs, gracefully raking up some leaves, spinning around like a ballerina. 

Zayn grumbles under his breath, watching intently as he prods at a few leaves with his rake.

“Hey,” Niall says, smacking Zayn’s butt with his rake. “Don’t worry about it. He’s an attractive dude. Very... feminine?”

Zayn just snorts, shaking his head and grabbing a shovel to start shoveling his pile of leaves into the wheelbarrow. They’ve completed nearly three-quarters of the yard, and Zayn is trying to psych himself up to get the remainder finished, and Niall has started rapping some old Chiddy Bang song that Zayn can barely even remember. They start raking again, and Liam emerges from the forest on the small path leading to the stables. Apparently he knows the song Niall is continuing to rap – terribly, if Zayn says so himself. He sighs when Niall drops his rake, bounding over to Liam and wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they sing together, and Zayn knows he’s probably going to have to finish the raking by himself.

“ _I once was a kid, all I had was a dream! Mo’ money, mo’ problems, when I get it I’ma pile it up!_ ” Niall bobs his head as he attempts to show-off his white-boy rapping skills. Liam doesn’t really attempt to rap, but he’s beat-boxing a beat that Zayn assumes must be similar to the song from the way Niall’s face is lit up.

Zayn continues raking up the rest of the leaves, but he doesn’t even mind because Liam and Niall are pretty entertaining; Liam complaining about his lips going numb from his beat-boxing, and Niall forgetting a few of the words, so he mumbles his way through half of the song. They’re both dorks, and Zayn kind of thinks they’re perfect for each other, in a way. Just by not being embarrassed to be themselves in front of each other, not afraid of being ridiculed by the other. Zayn assumes it must be love.

Zayn is just finishing shoveling the last bit of leaves into the wheelbarrow, when Niall jogs over to him, apologizing, but Zayn can’t take him seriously with the darkening hickey on his neck, that he must’ve gotten from Liam when they were having a love-cuddle on the ground after their brief concert. Zayn brushes off Niall’s apologies and puppy dog eyes, assuring him everything’s cool. 

Liam chases Niall into the house as they yell at each other, but Zayn can’t make out what they’re saying. He pushes the cart over to where Louis is currently scrubbing a sponge along the belly of a goat that is baying right in Harry’s face, who seems delighted about it. Harry seems to really love all of the animals, and he recently promised Zayn he would introduce him properly to all of them, but that day has yet to come. 

“Where do you want me to put these leaves?” Zayn asks Louis.

Louis turns around on the small stool he’s sitting on, glancing at Zayn then down to the leaves in the wheelbarrow. “In the house, there’s a basket on the bottom shelf of the bookshelf by the fireplace. Make sure that’s filled up, then dump the rest into one of the trash cans on the side of the house.”

Zayn nods, glancing over to Harry, who is smiling up at Zayn as he scratches the goat’s chin. “Would you like me to help you?” Harry asks, tilting his head in question.

Zayn opens his mouth to respond, but Louis cuts him off. “No, Harry. We haven’t finished yet.”

Harry pouts and glares at Louis, who has returned to scrubbing the goat. He shoots Zayn an apologetic smile and a small shrug. Zayn just winks at him and smiles before jogging up the steps of the porch and into the house to retrieve the basket. He’s never really noticed the fireplace before, but he figures that’s because it hasn’t been cold enough, yet, to actually be put to use. Louis must use the dry leaves to help start the fires, and Zayn thinks that’s smarter than tearing up old magazines to use like he normally does. 

He heads back outside to fill up the basket just as Louis is returning from pouring the remainder of water in the basin into the trench they dug a couple months ago. There’s no sign of Harry, and Zayn pretends he isn’t looking for him as his stuffs handfuls of leaves into the wicker basket. He turns to take the basket back into the house, but Louis is there with an outstretched hand.

“I’ll take that,” he offers, a small smile on his face, but Zayn still finds his eyes intimidating.

“Uh, thanks—thank you.”

“You can go take the leaves to the trash, now.” Louis pauses, so Zayn grabs hold of the wheelbarrow starting to head to the side of the house. “Harry is in the stables,” Louis calls after him, and Zayn doesn’t turn around, not wanting to showcase his grin, but he holds a thumbs-up over his head.

After dumping the leaves into one of the trashcans and returning the wheelbarrow to the shed, Zayn starts off down the path to the stables, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. It’s been getting progressively colder, and Zayn is beginning to worry that maybe he didn’t pack enough clothes for Arizona’s bipolar weather. The sun hasn’t started to set, yet, but since tall trees surround them, the sun isn’t visible, making it get darker – and colder – a lot quicker. 

He hears Harry before he can see him. He’s either talking to himself, or the animals – Zayn hopes it’s the latter. He loiters by the door, just listening to what Harry is saying.

“Are you excited to meet Flynn, Daisy?” Harry asks, and if Zayn can remember correctly, Daisy is the name of one of the cows. Of course, Harry doesn’t get an answer, but he hums like he’s acknowledging something the cow said. Zayn shouldn’t find it as endearing as he does, but Harry acts like a complete child when he’s around the animals, and it makes Zayn’s insides feel like goo. 

He hesitates for a moment, sort of waiting (and maybe hoping) for Harry to say something else, to raise his voice into a soft, high-pitched coo that should sound completely ridiculous with his raspy voice, but Zayn just thinks it _works_. However, he doesn’t hear anymore talking, just the deep rumble of Harry humming a tune. So he slides open the stables door, slipping inside to find Harry combing out the hair of a black horse with a shocking-white mane and tail, and Zayn is _pretty sure_ it wasn’t there the last time he was in the stables. And when he looks to the right, he can see two more horses.

“When did we get horses?” Zayn asks once he’s standing right behind Harry, making him jump and spin around, holding the grooming brush as if it’s a weapon. 

“Fuck, you scared me, Flynn,” Harry breathes, and Zayn just grins. “And Louis brought them here earlier this morning. You were still sleeping, I think.” He turns back around, smoothing the brush along the curve of the horse’s back.

Zayn pinches Harry’s hip, leaning close to his ear. “And were you planning on _hiding_ them from me?”

Harry giggles, legitimately _giggles_ , and lamely swats at Zayn’s face over his shoulder. “No, you menace. I guess it just sort of never occurred to me to tell you.” He shrugs, shooting Zayn a loose smile. “But I want to go riding in the morning.”

Zayn hums, spinning Harry around to face him, gripping at his hips. “Are you talking about me, or the horses?”

Harry’s mouth drops open like he didn’t know Zayn was going to say that. Zayn knows he was expecting it, but at least he has the courtesy to brighten his cheeks with a blush. “What _am_ I going to do with you?” he asks rhetorically, grinning like he knows something Zayn doesn’t. “I was referring to the _horses_ ,” he hisses, but Zayn catches the smirk on his face as he turns back to the horse.

Zayn chuckles, walking over to pet a tan-haired, blonde-maned horse that’s been watching his and Harry’s interaction with large, brown eyes. “You should go riding in the morning, then,” he tells Harry, forcing his voice to remain nonchalant. “I’d personally love to watch you ride, every morning.” He knows he’s being painfully obvious, now, but it’s totally worth it when he turns around to see a flustered-and-confused-looking Harry staring at him with wide eyes. 

Harry takes a step toward him, dropping the brush to the ground, and before Zayn can even reach out for him, the door is sliding open suddenly, and Niall is popping his head inside. 

“Dinner!” he shouts, apparently oblivious to the tension in the air as he disappears just as quickly as he appeared. 

Zayn immediately begins plotting Niall’s death; he could murder him in his sleep and bury him in the trench before the sun even starts to rise. The plan is starting to come together very nicely, but then he’s pulled from his murderous thoughts when Harry grabs his hand and tugs him toward the door, smirking and winking at Zayn through the curls falling in his eyes that escaped the hold of the hair-tie. They don’t say anything to each other. Harry just leads him to the house, their fingers intertwined, and if Zayn has trouble looking at anything that _isn’t_ Harry’s ass moving in those damned, tight jeans, no one can prove it. 

**

Zayn has always been one of those people who work best when they are left to themselves. Ever since he was a kid, he’d always enjoyed the moments he had to himself, to just do what he wanted to do without having to worry about keeping up conversations he didn’t really care about with people he didn’t really know. Sure, he didn’t mind hanging out with friends from school, playing some new video game that they had just found out about, or smoking weed on his back porch before his mom got home. But he’s never been very sociable, always keeping his emotions and thoughts locked up to himself. 

He remembers, one time, during his twelfth birthday party his mom had organized to have at their house, he had found out his sister had been allowed to invite some of her friends, as well. It wouldn’t have been a problem, expect when only one of Zayn’s friends, Josh, had shown up, while his sister and her annoying gaggle of friends practically took over his party. So, Zayn decided to just ditch the whole thing entirely and go sulk at the park down his street by himself. He has never talked to anyone about it, but it still manages to make him sad whenever he thinks about it.

Even today, he’s the same way. His only ‘friend’ is probably Ben. And that’s his _boss_ , so he isn’t even sure if that counts. But Zayn’s never really worried about making friends since he doesn’t think the quantity of people you’re close to can possibly define you as a person. He knows he can trust himself. With other people, it’s just a gamble. They can say everything he wants to hear, one second, and then turn around and stab him in the back. So, what’s the point? It’s not like he’s ever felt like he’s missing something in his life, anyway.

Except now – _here_ , he truly thinks he could count all four of these guys as his friends. _Real_ friends. Which, it should worry him, actually, since he’s _technically_ investigating a murder, so one of these guys could quite _literally_ stab him in the back, any second. But, he truly thinks they could be considered his friends. He’s trying to decide if he’s developed some form of Stockholm’s Syndrome. He doesn’t think he has, but then again, people who develop Stockholm’s Syndrome probably don’t think they have it, either.

But it’s reasonable, he supposes, since he’s spent everyday with them for three months straight. It’s probably impossible to _not_ form a bond with people like that. Louis, Harry, Niall, and Liam were really close when Zayn had first shown up, and it had been awkward at first. He felt like a fifth wheel that forgot to bring a date to the party, but he surprisingly felt like he belonged sooner than he thought, making it less awkward when they saw each other for nearly twenty-four hours a day.

Which just makes it even weirder, now. He’s by himself in the kitchen, sitting on the counter by the stove. He had been in charge of cooking dinner tonight, and it was all really pleasant. Louis seems to be warming up to him, lately (Zayn isn’t sure why), and he had been involved in their round of joke-telling at the table. But once they finished eating, the mood in the room had immediately changed to something more tense and awkward. That’s when Louis excused himself from the table, telling Harry, Liam, and Niall to follow him. Zayn sort of just lingered behind, cleaning up the table (even though it was Liam’s night for dishes) as the four of them stomped up the stairs. But Zayn’s even more on-edge because he’s pretty sure he heard another set of stairs being walked up – meaning the four of them are on the third floor where all of the locked rooms are. And they’re most likely not having their ‘family meeting’ in the hall, so one of those rooms is unlocked, making Zayn itch to run up there and find out what’s inside.

He doesn’t, of course, since he’s kind of worried the room might be full of weapons. And he’s sure Louis would not hesitate to use them on him in order to protect whatever he’s trying to hide.

He decides to go up to his room, thinking he might be able to hear something being said if they’re using the room right above his. He can’t, irritatingly, but he takes the alone time as an opportunity to record what’s going on in his journal – making sure to note how weird Louis was acting toward the end of dinner, plus how long they’ve already been up there. 

Now, he starts thinking about how he was when he was younger. Shit, how he was _three months ago_ , when he first got here. How we would’ve killed to have time to himself like this. To be able to escape the four people he hasn’t been able to get away from. But, now that he has some time to think about it, he’d prefer it if they were here with him. If Niall were going on about some new show on the Food Network that only he’s interested in, but the rest of them would chime in with comments just so Niall didn’t feel like an idiot. He’d prefer if Harry were here to be crawling into his lap, and Louis to be glaring at the both of them. He’s knows it’s weird for him to actually _want_ human interaction, but he tries to not let himself think about what it all means. Instead, scribbling notes about it into the margins of his journal. 

“Flynn?” 

Zayn’s head snaps up just as soon as the voice calls the name (and he also tries to not let himself think about how quickly he’s become accustomed to his new name). It’s Harry – of course it’s Harry – standing in the doorway with a worried tilt to his mouth and confusion furrowing his brow.

“Are you all right?” he asks, just lingering in the hall, not stepping into the room, and Zayn’s not sure why he wishes he would.

“Yeah. I’m—I’m fine,” he stammers, brushing his hair off his forehead. It’s gotten longer, not being able to stand in a quiff all on its own. “I was just waiting for you guys.” That’s when he hears the voices of the others coming from downstairs, and Zayn realizes they all must’ve passed his door without saying anything to him. But of course Harry stopped to check on him.

“Well,” Harry drawls, clasping his hands behind his back, making him look like a proper schoolboy. Zayn wants to destroy him. “Are you coming down? We’re going to watch a movie. Liam is choosing, so I think you’ll like it.” He gives Zayn a warm smile before he adds, “And I think we’ve got some pistachio ice cream left from the last time Louis went into town. I know it’s your favorite so I hid some for you.”

That makes Zayn grin, all loose and lop-sided. “Sounds excellent,” he confirms, tucking his journal beneath his pillow before standing from the bed and sweeping over to Harry, leaning in to kiss him on the mouth. Harry stops him with a finger to his lips.

“But you’ll have to share with me.” Harry smirks, flicking his hair out his face. “I _did_ hide it, after all.”

Zayn shakes his head, completely in disbelief about this boy in front of him. “You’re ridiculous,” he says before licking into Harry’s mouth, imagining what it will be like to lick the taste of pistachio and cream out of it, later. 

Harry pulls away grinning, and nudges their noses together before linking their fingers and leading Zayn down the stairs and into the living room, where the others are sprawled over the furniture, and an action movie is playing loudly on the TV. Louis looks up at them from where he has his face pressed against Niall’s neck. Zayn assumes Harry smiles at him, because his face softens instantly.

Harry continues pulling on his hand to lead him into the kitchen. He forces Zayn to sit at the small table in the corner of the room that no one ever uses because only two people can fit around it at once. Zayn watches from his seat as Harry goes to the freezer, rummaging around until he pulls out a small Tupperware filled with pastel green ice cream with a grin on his face.

“Told you I hid it,” he mutters, sliding the freezer closed with his thigh as he reaches into the silverware drawer for a spoon. He moves to sit on Zayn’s lap, popping the lid of the ice cream and scooping himself a large bite.

“I don’t get my own spoon?” Zayn asks, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer.

Harry hums around the spoon in his mouth, and Zayn can’t help but watch the way his lips move. “I don’t feel like doing more dishes than are required,” he explains, scooping out another bite and hovering the spoon in front of Zayn’s mouth, quirking a brow. “Open up, babe,” he says, his lips pursing as he tries to hide his smirk.

Zayn opens his mouth slowly, maintaining their eye contact, and even going as far as pushing his tongue out slightly to press it against the bottom of the spoon. He watches as Harry swallows, sliding the spoon further into his mouth so he can wrap his lips around it and take the ice cream. He can feel Harry shudder in his lap, and when he lifts his eyelashes, he sees Harry staring at his mouth.

“This was a bad idea,” Harry mumbles, shoving another bite of ice cream into his mouth.

Zayn chuckles softly, slipping his fingers beneath Harry’s shirt. “Why’s that?”

Harry doesn’t reply right away, just feeds Zayn another scoop of ice cream then leans in until his mouth his pressed against Zayn’s ear. “Because it’s making me hard.”

Zayn sputters around his bite of ice cream, his fingers digging into the fleshy part of Harry’s hip, and one glance down to Harry’s crotch proves that Harry is telling the truth. “What _am_ I gonna do with you?” he asks, suddenly remembering when Harry had asked him the same question in the stables over a month ago. 

Harry places the spoon and Tupperware onto the table, swiveling so he’s properly straddling Zayn’s lap. He ducks down, nudging his nose to Zayn’s cheekbone. “It’d be best if you fucked me,” he murmurs, tightening his legs around Zayn’s hips.

And Zayn’s not sure how, or _why_ , it even happened, but he’s really glad Harry is one of those people who get turned on while feeding another person ice cream. 

**

Honestly, Zayn’s not even sure how he didn’t think of it before.

Of course, with it getting closer to December, the weather is changing drastically and Zayn’s considering contacting Ben somehow and telling him to leave a bag of winter clothes for him by the side of the road. He really didn’t think he would be here long enough to even have to worry about winter arriving, but apparently it’s happening. And it’s all starting to hit him, now, as he sits by the roaring fire with the others.

There’s some basketball game playing loudly on the television, and Louis, Niall, and Liam are all very interested in it. Harry, though, when Zayn glances over to him, keeps picking at his cuticles or reaching over to adjust a piece of Louis’ hair, earning him a kiss. 

“Looouuuu,” Harry whines, drawing it out and knocking his head against Louis’.

“Yeah, babe?” Louis asks, squeezing Harry’s thigh that’s draped over his lap.

“This is so boring.” Harry pouts, batting his eyelashes in Louis’ direction.

Louis is momentarily distracted by the TV as one of the players sprints down the court. “Babe, um.” He turns to look at Harry. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

Harry grumbles, tugging on the sleeve of Louis’ sweater. “Looouuuu.”

Louis sighs, rubbing at hand through his hair, then takes a small key from his pocket and hands it to Harry. “If you wanna do something, then why don’t you go get the winter clothes out of the hall closet and hang them in our closet, hm?” He presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek, who bites his own lip as he considers.

“Okay, fine,” he concedes. “But I’m only doing this because I’m bored and there’s literally nothing else to do.”

Louis chuckles and smacks Harry’s butt as he stands up. “Sure, babe. Whatever you say.”

Harry prances over to where Zayn is sitting, who’s been watching them the entire time. “Wanna come help me? You like you’re having a terrible time over here.” He grins, jabbing his finger into Zayn’s cheek.

Zayn can’t help but smile back at him and stand up. “Sure, yeah. Basketball has never been my thing, anyway.”

Harry nods in understanding, stepping around Zayn to stand behind him and he starts pushing Zayn over to the stairs. Zayn laughs, reaching behind to wrap his arms around Harry’s torso as they head to the closet on the third floor. And now Zayn’s starting to feel anxious as Harry unlocks the door, because this is where the photos are that Louis had been so adamant about Zayn not seeing.

Harry steps inside and pulls the chain to turn on the single light bulb. He claps his hands once, glancing around at all of the clothes hanging on the rack before he holds his arms out as wide as he can and steps forward to practically hug all of the hanging clothes, squeezing them together and lifting them all off the rack at once. He turns around quickly and stares at Zayn, wide-eyed.

“Can you shut and lock the door for me?” he asks, turning his body. “Key’s in my front left pocket.”

Zayn wiggles his eyebrows before reaching into Harry’s pocket and grabbing the key. Harry scoffs at him and jogs down the stairs to Louis’ room. Zayn stares down at the key in his hand, feeling the weight of it, then glances over to the box that's still tucked into the corner of the closet, the phone back in its place. He knows can’t possibly risk going through the box, right now. Harry is sure to come looking for him soon, and maybe even Louis. He just wishes he could hide the key to get back into the closet, later.

Zayn quickly shuts the light off and closes the closet door, locking it. He jogs down the stairs, taking two at a time, and quietly peeks into Louis’ room to see Harry shuffling through clothes in the closet and hanging some heavier coats up. Zayn passes the room, then passes his own room to stand at the top of the stairs, the key is still burning a hole into his hand. He hears Louis shout something at the basketball game, followed by Liam and Niall. He takes a deep breath before ducking back into his room.

He makes a beeline for his bag, unzipping it and digging down to the bottom. He curses silently for taking so long, but then his fingers brush over smooth plastic and he nearly squeals in relief. He pulls out the impression mold, and his hands are shaking as he unsnaps the two halves. He nearly drops the key as he presses it halfway into one of the sections of clay, then pressing the other piece of clay on top. He pulls them apart slowly to ensure he doesn’t mess up the impression, then he carefully removes the key. He grins to himself when he sees perfect imprints of both sides of the key. He snaps the two halves back together and stuffs them back into his bag.

He’s surprised he actually did it without getting caught. Because it would have been his luck that Louis would have been standing behind him with a gun or a knife, ready to kill him. But Louis isn’t there, and when Zayn walks over to Louis’ room, Harry is still in there, who is gorgeous and oblivious as Zayn slips the key into his back pocket.

Zayn knows it’s probably ridiculous that he has to resort to making his own key just so he can get a look at a few photos. But really, what else does he have left? He couldn’t just _take_ the key, because clearly Louis keeps it on his person at all times. Obviously Louis doesn’t want him to see the photos because why else would Louis have freaked out like he did? There _must_ be something important in there, which is why Zayn _needs_ to get in there.

But, right now, Zayn’s biggest priority is figuring out the first step in making a key, and how the fuck he’s going to do it with all of the other guys around him twenty-four-seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asked to make a [tumblr](http://lousuedeshoes.tumblr.com), so I did? I haven't posted anything, beware.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s the third day of December, and Zayn still hasn’t started work on making that damned key.

The weather has been changing drastically – the days becoming shorter, and the nights long. It’s an odd sort of change because it’s colder than it usually is, this time of year, but Zayn thinks nothing of it, since he’s got bigger things in the forefront of his mind. Like finding out if one of these nice fellas he’s been living with is actually a crazed murderer. And the days are dragging on, whether Zayn wants them to or not.

It’s funny, really, because Zayn hasn’t been counting the days since he’s gotten here. Sure, he’s kept track of the passing of days with the small calendar in the back of his journal, but it never really meant anything; that is, until the clay key mold has taken up a large portion of his thoughts.

Now that he thinks about it, it all worked out a little _too_ perfectly. After he had formed the key mold, all those weeks ago, it just so happened he was in charge of cooking dinner for the night. So, killing two birds with one stone, he had decided to whip the boys up a pizza, allowing him to also bake the clay mold so it’d be ready to fill with molten, hot steel whenever he got the chance. However, it’s taken a bit longer than he had planned.

His first obstacle, is figuring out which metal he’s supposed to use. He’s somewhat sure it’s steel, but really, he doesn’t want to risk all the trouble of filling the mold with steel, and then have the key break in half when he tries to unlock the door. It’d be a huge waste of time, and he’s positive Ben wouldn’t live it down if he found out about it. So, Zayn’s top priority at the moment is to get ahold of Ben, which is harder than he had planned.

For one, he left his cell phone back at his apartment because Ben told him he shouldn’t take it with him, but really, Zayn’s not sure why that was necessary. Two, Zayn _would’ve_ called Ben already, but this fucking mystery-of-a-house is lacking a device needed to do the task. Zayn’s really feeling like he should just give up already, just tell the guys that he’s decided to go back home to mom and pop, anyway. 

“How about that weather, huh?”

Zayn startles in his seat, knocking his knee against the underside of the table before he turns to Niall, who is currently stuffing a forkful of noodles into his mouth.

“Yeah, it’s getting colder,” Liam adds. “Had to wear gloves when I checked the stables this morning.”

Zayn hums in agreement, just for the sake of seeming to be involved in the conversation, and twirls his fork in the spaghetti on his plate. As time has progressed, Zayn has gotten more comfortable around everyone here, but he still has those moments where he gets lost in his thoughts, and he sometimes forgets that Louis, Liam, Harry, and Niall don’t know he’s undercover and here to inspect their every move. 

“Have you noticed anything that needs repaired?” Louis is asking, pulling Zayn from his thoughts. “We should fix ‘em up before it starts snowing.”

“I think one of the steps out back is loose,” Harry says, mouth full of garlic bread. “Almost broke my neck trying to check on the animals.”

“Oh, yeah?” Niall asks, feigning concern. “You sure it’s not because you have zero control of those giraffe legs of yours?”

Harry pouts, jutting his lower lip out, and Zayn wants to kiss it.

“Yeah,” Liam laughs, eyes crinkling. “Maybe you tripped over your own foot.”

“ _Hey_...” Harry drawls, setting down his slice of bread, indignation written clear on his face. Niall and Liam chuckle at him, and Zayn in sure Harry has given up the fight, before he adds, “Yeah? Well, Niall’s from Minnesota.”

The chuckles die down to a weird silence as Harry’s comeback resonates amongst them, then Niall is cackling loudly. “Dude, that’s not even an insult!”

“Yes it is!” Harry cries petulantly, then the three of them delve into an argument involving flannels, cheese, and unnecessary push-ups.

“Enough!” Louis shouts over them, causing them all to give him apologetic glances. “ _Anyway_ , back to what I was saying. Repairs. Anything need fixing?”

“Siding of the house by the trashcans is stripping away,” Liam says seriously, previous argument forgotten. 

“What’ll it need?” Louis asks.

“Nails, which we’re running low on. But there’s some spare wood in the shed we’d be able to make use of.”

Louis nods, leaning back in his chair, glancing around the table. “Flynn,” he says. “Anything you’ve noticed?”

“Um,” Zayn hums. “I probably should’ve mentioned this sooner, but when I first showed up here, I noticed one of the shutters out front was hanging loose.”

Louis chuckles at that. “I’ve been meaning to fix that, but I always forgot. Thanks, for that.”

Zayn nods, sipping at his water.

“I can pick up whatever we need,” Harry offers, leaning against the table. “I can head into town tomorrow morning. Take the truck,” he adds with a grin.

The whole table groans, but Zayn has no idea what’s going on, so he says as much.

“Last time Lou let Harry take the truck out, Liam had to replace two of the tires and fix the alignment,” Niall explains, shaking his head at a quiet Harry.

“What the... What happened?” Zayn asks.

Harry’s face lights up when he looks at him. “So, down the road a ways, there’s this dip in the road, and if you hit it _just right_...” He makes gestures with his hands, like a swooping ramp. “You can get some sick air.” He’s grinning and bright-eyed and beautiful.

“Yeah,” Liam deadpans. “Except, lil Harry here _didn’t_ hit it just right, and jammed the two front tires back into the alignment, basically fucking up the whole thing.”

Zayn gapes, turning to Harry, who’s smiling sheepishly. “You little rebel,” Zayn whispers, making Harry get a twinkle in his eyes.

“Okay, you can take it,” Louis says, and the whole table gasps, even Harry.

“What? Really!?” he screeches, nearly tipping back in his chair.

“Straight to Lowe’s and straight back,” Louis clarifies. “That means no attempts at trying to get some ‘ _sick air_ ’.”

Everyone laughs at his use of air quotes to mock Harry, but Harry beams, promising he _won’t do such a thing_ and _what ‘air’ are you speaking of and why is it sick?_

**

The next morning, Zayn is awoken by wet smacks of lips along his cheeks and down his jaw. He knows it’s Harry without even having to open his eyes just by having the smell of Harry filling his senses. He opens his eyes when Harry finally kisses his lips, and he sees Harry grinning and bright-eyed above him. And he really has no other choice but to say yes when Harry asks him to go into town with him. 

The ride into town is quiet, save for when Harry will lean over to kiss Zayn, taking his eyes off the road for longer than Zayn would like, so Zayn can’t be blamed when he raises his voice to tell Harry to keep his eyes on the fucking road. 

The town appears small, but that’s probably only because everything is spread out, instead of being all smushed together like most big cities. They pass a few fast-food joints on their way to Lowe’s, and Zayn realizes he’d kill for a McDonald’s cheeseburger, right now. But that’s neither here, nor there, and the loose change rattling in Zayn’s pocket keeps him focused on why he really agreed to come into town with Harry. And it couldn’t work out more perfect when they pass a payphone as they approach the sliding doors of the store.

“Hey,” Zayn starts, clearing his throat, gesturing a thumb over his shoulder toward the payphone. “I’m gonna, um—call my dad. Just, y’know, see how everything’s going.”

Harry’s expression softens and he leans in to press a warm kiss to Zayn’s lips. “Sure. I’ll meet you inside?” He waves around the list Louis had given him.

Zayn nods and gives Harry an assuring smile, before he turns to the payphone, inserting some change, and dialing Ben’s number by heart.

_“Winston’s office.”_

“Never thought I’d ever say that I miss your voice,” Zayn says, grinning to himself.

There’s a loud clank of the other end, and Zayn’s guessing Ben dropped the phone.

_“Zayn?”_

“The one and only.”

_“Fuck, man. Do you realize how long it’s been without a single phone call?”_ Ben’s voice seems to be rising with something like anger. _“We’ve been worried sick over here.”_

“Yeah, that’s nice and all, and I’m sorry for not calling sooner, but I actually called to ask you something.” Zayn glances behind him, just to make sure Harry didn’t come back or anything.

Ben groans. _“What do you need?”_

Zayn starts at the beginning, telling Ben everything that’s happened from the first second he stepped through the door of the house. He cleverly bypasses any information about Harry, and the fact that Zayn has discovered his bisexuality. He goes into information about what he found in the box, the first night he was there, explaining the picture of Harry he found.

_“What’s his name?”_ Ben asks, and Zayn can hear the tapping of a keyboard in the background. 

“The back of the photo just said ‘Harry S’. I haven’t found out any of their last names.”

Ben huffs out a sigh, and Zayn winces. _“Well that doesn’t help at all. You need to find out something else.”_

“I know, I know,” Zayn sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s why I called you actually. Uh, so I want to go through whatever else is in that box, but Louis is keeping everything under lock and key.” Ben just hums, so Zayn continues, “I took a clay mold of the key, but I can’t remember which type of metal I’m supposed to use.”

_“Zaayynnn,”_ Ben drawls, and Zayn can tell he’s smiling. _“Are you telling me you’re actually using something I’ve taught you?”_

“Maybe? Whatever, shut up! Just tell me what to do.”

Ben chuckles, but thankfully drops the subject. _“Alright, listen. Most keys these days are made of brass, for the sake of it not rusting. But in your case, you shouldn’t give a fuck if it rusts, just make sure it can do the job. The easiest thing you can do is to melt down some coins, it shouldn’t matter which ones, just make sure you’ve got a good mixture of them all.”_

“You _do_ realize I had to use basically all of the loose change I had just to call you, right?”

Ben laughs again, and Zayn really wants to smack him. _“Well, then. You got any nails handy? Those should work just as well. Just make sure they’re the bronze ones.”_

“Perfect,” Zayn grins, twisting around to look inside the Lowe’s store. “I’m actually standing outside a Lowe’s right now, so I should go before Harry buys useless nails.”

_“Alright, man,”_ Ben says, then rushes to say, _“Hey, wait! Just, um, be careful, alright?”_

“Got it.” Zayn grins. “See ya next year, Benny.” He hangs up before Ben can yell at his use of his most-hated nickname.

When Zayn gets inside the store, he promptly finds Harry wandering the aisles with nothing in his shopping cart. And, really, if Zayn didn’t find him so endearing, he’d yell at him for being so slow. And when Harry notices him walking toward him, the bright smile that spreads across his face just works to further prove Zayn’s point.

“Nothing strike your fancy?” Zayn asks, rounding the cart to stand beside Harry, ducking down to catch his lips in a kiss.

Harry smiles sheepishly and kisses him once more before speaking. “I actually have no idea where anything is, and I’m too embarrassed to ask for help.”

Zayn frowns, brushing a curl away from Harry’s face. “Why’re you embarrassed?”

“Because I’m a man!” Harry shouts, throwing his arms in the air, then bringing them down so he’s flexing. “I should live and breathe this store! Eat nails for breakfast, and all that!”

Zayn gasps in shock and laughs as he glances around to the other people in the aisle staring at them. “Yes, babe, I know, but that’s not you, alright?”

Harry’s arms drop to his sides, his pout appearing. “But why can’t it be?”

“Because you’re better at other things,” Zayn says, steering the cart down the aisle where the nails are. “Like taking care of animals, and cooking fantastic meals.” He glances over to Harry, who’s eyeing him warily, so Zayn presses close to him, whispering, “And you’re amazing at taking my cock like a fucking champ.”

Zayn knows Harry is blushing like a mad man before he even pulls away, so he doesn’t even bother looking at him as he steps over to observe the nails, grabbing the biggest box of bronze nails they carry. Harry sticks close as Zayn gathers the things Louis wrote down on the list, and every time Zayn glances over to Harry, he catches Harry struggling to discretely adjust himself in his jeans.

Zayn counts the whole trip into town as a win.

**

The ride back to the house probably would’ve felt shorter than the ride into town, just because that’s how all trips to unknown destinations feel like, however, Zayn couldn’t exactly bring himself to say no when Harry pulled the truck into the tall grass at the side of the road and sucked Zayn into his mouth right then and there.

So they get back to the house about fifteen minutes later than their original plans, but Zayn can’t bring himself to care, and the smug grin on Harry’s face says that he feels the same way.

The sun has already started to set behind the line of trees surrounding the house, making it look like the tops of the trees have been set on fire – the reddish orange flares casting from the setting sun. The actual sky is a dark gray, void of any clouds, which tells Zayn they should get settled in for a colder night than normal, since there aren’t any clouds to help trap in any heat. Just thinking about it getting colder sends a shiver down Zayn’s spine, making him shove his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. 

In the house, Niall is stuffing handfuls of dried leaves underneath the logs in the fireplace, cackling loudly at only-God-knows-what. 

“Hiya!” he greets, bounding over and taking their bags from them, inspecting their contents. “Get anythin’ good?”

Zayn shrugs. “Just what Louis told us to get. Nothing to write home about.”

For some reason, that makes Niall laugh again, claiming Zayn be _some sort of comedic genius_ , before he places the bags on the floor by the wall and goes into the kitchen. Suddenly, the back door swings open and Louis and Liam come stomping inside, leaving tracks of mud on the doormat. Louis is the first to spot them, probably because of the small noise Harry made when Louis walked into the house.

“Hey, babe,” Louis says, smiling as Harry slinks over to them, pressing a chaste kiss to Liam’s lips, before he turns to Louis, practically melting into the grip the man has on his hips, their lips working in a thorough kiss. 

They pull apart, pink-cheeked and breathless, and Harry smacks a sweet kiss to Louis’ cold-reddened nose. They sort of just _look_ at each other for a moment, and Zayn can’t do anything but linger awkwardly only a few feet away from them, so he clears his throat in hopes of making them stop.

“Ah, Flynn,” Louis says, before his eyes even leave Harry’s face. “Did you get what I asked for?”

“Yup,” Zayn nods, twisting his head to look at the bags setting on the floor. “The window shutter is in the truck bed. I can take it ‘round back to the shed, if you’d like.” 

“Actually...” Louis cocks his head, contemplating. “Those jobs _do_ need to be done, and there’s no better time than the present.”

_What?_ “But... it’s so cold, right now,” Zayn points out, like it’s something Louis doesn’t already know.

Louis quirks a brow. “And it’s only going to get colder.”

Damn, that’s a good point. “Alright.” Zayn shrugs and scratches at the back of his neck, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I guess I’ll go try to find some warmer clothes.”

He turns away and makes a beeline toward the stairs, not bothering to wait for Louis to say anything, because honestly, what’s there for him to say? Plus, Zayn saying he’s going to find warmer clothes was mostly just an excuse to get away, because Zayn actually forgot to bring anything heavier than the hoodie he is currently wearing. He’s feeling so, _so_ stupid for not having the forethought to have packed a light jacket, or maybe that ugly sweater his grandma knitted for him last Christmas.

So now he’ll have to go out and freeze his balls off. Not to mention, he’ll most likely be doing all of the work himself, since the last time he saw Niall and Liam they were freshly showered and cuddled up near the fireplace with mugs of steaming cocoa. A pitiful whine leaves his throat because _he_ wants to be the one snuggled up by a warm fire with a hot mug of something in his hands. But no. Instead, he’s being forced, practically, to go out and sacrifice his precious family jewels just because Louis is a demanding asshole.

He’s just puttering around his room, dusting off shelving, because there’s really no reason why he’s in here, but he doesn’t wasn’t to have come in here for no reason at all, so he slumps down onto he bed and pulls on another pair of socks over the ones he has on now, because even though he’ll be losing his balls in a few minutes, he’d prefer if he could at least keep all of his toes.

He huffs out a sigh as he opens his bedroom door, shouting and falling back onto his ass when he sees Harry standing right on the other side of the door, bundled in a heavy jacket and a thick scarf wrapped around the lower-half of his face, bright purple rain boots on his feet. Seriously, what is _up_ with this boy?

“Sorry!” Harrys shouts, the word muffled by the scarf covering his mouth. He stumbles into the room, clearly having no control over his feet in the heavy rain boots. He helps Zayn up with a glove-covered hand.

“It’s alright,” Zayn reassures him, dusting off his pants. “Why are you dressed for Antarctica?”

Harry’s eyes narrow into a glare, and Zayn is positive there’s a pout behind the scarf. “It’s cold outside,” he says, throwing a jacket at Zayn’s face. “Put that on. I don’t want you catching pneumonia because I’m not going to take care of you.”

Zayn chuckles, shrugging on the jacket and finding a pair of gloves stuffed in one of the pockets. “You would be a perfect little nurse for me if I got sick,” he hums, slipping on the gloves. Harry huffs and rolls his eyes, turning to march out of the room, but Zayn grabs his wrist. “Wait a second. Why are _you_ dressed for the cold?”

Harry turns to face him. “Because I’m helping you, you idiot.” He tugs his wrist out of Zayn’s grip, but he doesn’t try to step away when Zayn gets closer.

“You know,” Zayn begins, reaching up to rub his thumb over the scarf, where he knows Harry’s lips are. “you don’t need to do this to prove your manliness to me.”

Harry raises a brow, and when he talks Zayn can feel the movement of his lips against his thumb. “I’m not trying to _prove_ anything. I’m just being nice.”

Zayn grins at him, humming happily as he tugs down Harry’s scarf just far enough to press a kiss to his lips before they make their way down the stairs and out into the freezing cold. 

After only being outside for less than five minutes, Zayn is grateful for the heavy jacket Harry gave him. The biting wind is still nipping at his cheeks, and making the tip of his nose go numb, but watching Harry tromp through the mud with his purple rain boots on makes it all a little easier to handle.

They make their way to the shed, which is no easy feat as they nearly slip on mud patches and hold on to each other as the wind tries to sweep them away. They huddled into the shed for momentary relief from the wind, and Zayn glances down to see the terrible state the mud has left his nice boots in. He attempts to stomp out as much mud as he can, but it’s no use. He finds Harry with a hammer in each hand and the box of nails shoved into his jacket pocket.

“I’ve got these,” Harry says, his voice wavering as chills wrack is body. “The wood siding is right next to you.”

Zayn nods and rubs his gloved hands together before collecting the wood and they make their way back out into the cold. It’s all kind of insane to be working at a time like this, with the sun barely providing them with enough light to do the jobs properly, but he really didn’t expect anything less from Louis.

They work together in silence. At least until Harry whines about how he can no longer feel his finger or his toes, and proceeds to shove his hands under Zayn’s jacket to warm them up, Zayn keeps him quiet with the promise of helping him warm up once they get inside. The siding of the house is repaired easily as Zayn tears off the old wood with his hands, then has Harry hold up the replacement wood with the nails it into place. They go around to the front of the house where the broken window shutter is, and Zayn hauls the new one out of the truck bed while Harry removes the old one by beating it with his hammer. The replacement shutter fits perfectly, but is an odd color compared to the one next to it, and will most likely need a good paint job once the sun is shining again. But that can wait.

For now, Zayn focuses on picking up any stray debris. When he glances over to Harry, Harry’s teeth are chattering so loudly that Zayn can hear it from where he’s standing. The tops of Harry’s cheeks are a bright pink where they’re not covered by the scarf. He looks cold and pathetic, and his fingers are barely holding onto the hammer in his hands.

“Babe,” Zayn says, walking over to take the hammer from Harry. “Why don’t you go inside, okay? Go warm up, I’ll take all of this stuff back to the shed.” Harry looks up at him with wide eyes as his body continues to shake uncontrollably. He looks like he’s about to protest, but Zayn leans in and kisses his forehead. “Go on,” he says, reaching around to slap Harry’s ass as best he can through the thick jacket. Harry smiles, or at least Zayn thinks he does from the way his eyes crinkle. 

“You’re the best, Flynn.” Harry tugs down his scarf and tucks it beneath his chin, reaching out to grab Zayn by the back of his neck and pulls him in for a cold-lipped kiss. “Don’t take too long,” Harry says, stomping up the front steps to remove mud from his rain boots.

Zayn drags the old window shutter and the siding debris back to the shed, thinking maybe they could use the wood in the fireplace once it dries out a bit. He hangs up the hammers and has his hand on the door to leave, when he pulls the nails out of his jacket. It suddenly clicks in his head, reminding him why he’s at this house in the first place. He reaches out blindly to find the flashlight that he knows is on the shelf by the door—there it is! He flicks it on, illuminating the shed in a hazy orange glow. He maneuvers around the large worktop in the middle of the room, on the look out for something that would be able to withstand temperatures high enough to melt bronze nails. And did he _really_ expect to find something like that in this dinky shed? Apparently. 

He’s rummaging through some lawn tools in the far corner of the shed when he sees it. It’s an old-looking oven that most likely was only used to burn wood back in some Colonial cabin, but it still has the metal door attached to the front, so hopefully he’ll be able to get it up to a high enough temperature. Thank God for someone in this household having a knack for collecting antique ovens. He opens the metal door, a loud, rusty screech emitting from the hinges. Inside, it’s filled with ash and bits of metal, and when he reaches a hand inside to feel around in the back of it, his fingers hit something rough and cold. He pulls it out to find a stone mortar that has a few pieces of metal in it. He’s not sure what it was used for, but he figures he’ll be able to use it as the vessel to melt the nails in, hoping it won’t crumble in extreme heat. 

“Flynn!”

“Shitfuck,” Zayn curses, fumbling to put the mortar back in the oven.

“Flynn?” The voice is getting closer as Zayn swings the metal door closed, thankful it doesn’t make the same horrid sound. He stumbles to his feet just as the shed door opens and the bright light of a flashlight shines directly in his face. “There you are!” the voice says, and Zayn can tell it belongs to Liam.

“Yeah, hi,” Zayn waves awkwardly. “Here I am.”

“What’re you doing in here? It’s fucking freezing.”

“I, um. I thought I heard a rat or something.” He waves around his flashlight to shine it on the floor. “Was just checking it out. We don’t want a rat infestation, do we?”

“No, we do not.” Liam laughs, jerking his head back in the direction of the house. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside and out of those muddy clothes.”

Zayn nods and places the box of nails on the worktop, following Liam back inside the house where the rest of the guys are gathered in the living room, _It’s a Wonderful Life_ playing on the television, and Harry and Niall arguing over _what really qualifies as a Christmas movie_ , but Harry’s head snaps up immediately when the backdoor clicks shut, and he’s bounding across the room – his feet bare, but he still has his muddy clothes on, and leaves and small twigs riddled through his crazy hair. He grabs Zayn’s wrist and leads him up the stairs to the bathroom.

“Why didn’t you shower?” Zayn asks as Harry unzips his jacket for him.

“Waited for you,” Harry replies, like it’s so obvious. And it really is.

Zayn hums, unzipping his jeans as he watches Harry struggling to get his own off. “Now, why would you wait for _me_?”

Harry stops to look at him, standing on one leg with his jeans hanging around his lifted ankle. “You know _why_.” He narrows his eyes, shaking the jeans off, then proceeding to remove his briefs, giving Zayn a pointed look as he gestures to his cock.

Zayn lifts a brow and shucks his jeans off, his underwear going with them. “You don’t think that’s a little conceited of you? To assume I’d want to suck you off in that tiny shower?”

Harry’s eyes narrow in amusement before he pulls his shirt off, moving over to step into the shower, the water slicking up his body as he wraps a hand around himself. “Are you telling me I should’ve brought Niall in here, instead of you?”

All amusement wipes clear off Zayn’s face, staring at Harry, who is grinning maniacally. Zayn gets his shirt off quicker than he ever thought possible, tripping over the clothes on the floor as he rushes toward the shower. He takes the time to close the shower curtain before he lunges at Harry with a growl, latching his lips to his neck. Harry’s giggles vibrate against his lips, so he sinks his teeth into the soft skin to prove his point.

“Don’t want anyone else in here with you,” Zayn mumbles against Harry’s wet skin, laving his tongue against the bite mark on Harry’s neck.

“Flynn,” Harry gasps, his hands reaching up to tangle into Zayn’s hair. “You can’t—that’s not how it works.”

Zayn freezes momentarily, thinking over what he just said. He meant it, of course, but he sort of forgot that Harry is married to three guys who are sitting downstairs beneath their feet. Fuck, this calls for some damage control.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, kissing along Harry’s jaw. “I just meant—right now, I meant I don’t want anyone else with you right now. Just me.” He has no idea what the fuck he’s saying, but he can feel Harry relax considerably, so he brushes it off. “Wouldn’t want anyone to see what we’re about to get up to.”

“Mmm, yeah?” Harry presses up against his thigh, letting Zayn know how hard he is already. “What’ve you got planned?”

Zayn quickly nips at his earlobe before he drops to his knees, pushing at Harry’s thighs until he’s up against the tiled wall. He can hear Harry’s heavy breathing over the rush of water; can see the way Harry’s cock is twitching where it’s curved in front of him; the way the muscles in Harry’s stomach jump when Zayn smooths his hands up the insides of his thighs. He takes him down in one go, pressing his tongue against the underside as he reaches up to tickle at the skin behind Harry’s balls, making Harry shudder bodily, his head thumping back against the wall.

“Flynn,” Harry sighs, brushing Zayn’s wet hair back off his forehead. Zayn hums around him, bobbing his head in time with the way Harry’s fingers clench around the back of his head. He slides off wetly, using a hand to stroke him as he ducks down to suck Harry’s balls into his mouth, rolling them around with his tongue. “ _Fuck_ ,” Harry gasps, his hips pressing forward furiously, fucking himself into Zayn’s fist. “So good— _God_ —so good.”

Zayn smirks and shifts up to suck kisses along Harry’s hipbones, nipping at the thin skin where the bones protrude. Harry whispers out a curse, and Zayn slips his mouth around the head of his cock, continuing to pump along the shaft. He uses his free hand to start stroking himself, focusing on the head as he dips his tongue into Harry’s slit, making the boy’s thighs shake. 

“Shit, I’m gonna—” Harry mumbles, his fingers tightening in Zayn’s hair. Zayn looks up at him through his wet lashes, pumping faster as he sucks more fervently at the head, giving Harry a wink, and then Harry’s coming – his thighs shaking and breath wavering, and Zayn swallows him down as he, too, comes.

He pumps himself through the high, his eyes closed in bliss as Harry slips from his mouth. He stays seated on the bottom of the shower as Harry helps wash his hair, then washes his own. They dry off in silence, trading steam-warm kisses until the fog on the mirror dissipates, then they stumble giddily into Zayn’s room. Harry slips under the comforter naked, and Zayn wastes no time doing the same. He’s not sure what time it is, but all he knows is that it’s dark outside and the day is starting to catch up with him. He didn’t make much progress on the key-making, but he can relax slightly knowing he has the tools to make it. Still, Ben would have murdered him by now for being so slow.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asks, his finger tracing a heart around Zayn’s left nipple. 

Zayn clears his throat, tightening his arm around Harry’s warm waist. He’s gotten used to having Harry in his bed. So used to it, that when he doesn’t go to bed with him, he can feel how much colder it’s getting outside. “Does Louis ever get mad at you for spending so much time with me?”

Harry’s finger stills, and Zayn looks down to see his eyelashes fanned out against his cheeks. “Sometimes,” he says, his breath warm against Zayn’s shoulder. “Sometimes he, um. He’ll yell at me for getting too close to you.” He swallows thickly, his eyelids fluttering. “He tells me to not get too attached because you won’t be here much longer.”

Zayn can feel his eyes widen slightly. “What does he mean I won’t be here much longer? Where else would I go?”

Harry cranes his neck to look up at him, a rueful smile playing at his lips. “I asked him the same thing.” He takes a deep breath, eyes flitting over Zayn’s face. “He said—he said he has ways of getting rid of you.”

Zayn gasps, it’s quiet and subtle, but he can still feel the sharp intake of air filling his lungs. And really, he’s surprised he hasn’t started screaming bloody murder and packing up everything as quick as he can. But Zayn is calm, cool, and collected. Yes he is. Even when there are death threats floating around the house like balloons at a birthday party. What the fuck. “Why—why would he want to get rid of me?”

He feels Harry shrug, the comforter sliding off his shoulder. “He didn’t say. But I know he doesn’t like it when people act like they know more than him. So, whatever it is you’re doing to make him think that, maybe stop.”

Zayn nods. “Duly noted.” He bites at his lip, trying to think about what he could’ve done to make Louis hate him so much. Well, besides the time he went though the secret-closet-full-of-secrets. He’s got nothing. “Did he happen to say _how_ he would get rid of me?”

“No. But I’ve got the faintest idea, and it’s not very pretty.”

Zayn grunts in acknowledgment. At least he and Harry are on the same page, here. So, now Zayn has to stress out about trying to find free time to make the stupid key, _and_ try his best to not piss off Louis any more than he already has, apparently, and also maybe dodge the occasional bullet and knife Louis may send his way.

Great. This is all turning out lovely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait. I've been having major writer's block, so if this chapter wasn't up to par, I promise the next one will be better!


End file.
